Frostflight
by macrauchenia
Summary: Dick goes missing after a disastrous mission and his remaining teammates struggle to move on. Ten years later, Dick wakes from a cryogenic prison to find that all his friends have grown up and Gotham has withered. Surrounded by people who now feel like strangers, Dick must solve the mystery of his own disappearance before the shadows return and steal everything else. [Post-S1 AU]
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note/Info about Story:**

So, I've been sitting on this idea since 2012 when Season 2 first aired. I bundled it away and never looked back until they announced Season 3 of YJ (!). There is a heavy emphasis on the Batfamily, but major characters will be introduced with enough background if you're not up to speed on all the bat kiddos.

Lastly, this is an AU that starts **right after the events of Season 1**. Many events that occur in Season 2 will still happen in the background and will be referenced by characters. As we go along, I may have to adjust for season 3 events (and S3 characterizations, since writing several "newer" characters like Steph and Cissie were based on their comic personalities). Feel free to ask if you have any questions!

Please enjoy!

* * *

It was supposed to be like any other mission. An easy-peasy, dig-up-the-dirt-on-the-baddie kind of mission. One that was a bit too simple for the League, but too difficult for local police to collaborate across jurisdictions.

It's what Wally West liked to call "junior justice grunt work" (though he wasn't complaining, because any excuse to get out of training was fine in his book).

Batman had been the one to brief them, flipping through images of stolen medical technology on the holoscreen, citing how each had been taken without a trace. Wally nodded along— _sure, sure, find the stolen tech_ —while his gaze kept straying back towards his female teammates.

 _It's been so hot. We should_ definitely _go to the beach after this._

Wally shifted, feeling the slick of sweat as it dribbled down the lycra lining of his suit.

 _So hot._

"Any questions?"

Wally snapped his attention back to the Bat and shook his head. He had caught the important parts: stuff was stolen and they had to get it back. Besides, they'd be in Central City. He knew his hometown like the treads of his sneakers. He missed a few of the details but he shrugged it off. He wasn't much for the _detective_ part of the job—just point him at a bad guy and he'd do his thing. As long as Robin and Kaldur knew what to do and where to go, they'd be _fine_.

"Good luck. Report back when you have more information."

* * *

Wally planted his hands on his hip and frowned at the carnage in front of him. Shreds of cardboard and splintered crates littered the ground. A few frayed cords and scraps of metal sheeting were sprinkled amongst the wreckage. It didn't take an ace detective to know that something valuable had been taken.

"Seriously? What was Bats saying about 'not leaving a trace?'"

Artemis crossed her arms, an eyebrow lifting in mock surprise. "Oh, so you _were_ paying attention? I thought you were too busy gawking like a creep at Megan."

"I'm pretty good at multitasking," he offered with a wink.

Robin, who had drawn the unlucky straw of being the third wheel, groaned as he straightened up from a crouch.

"This isn't like the other scenes. Something different happened here."

Artemis frowned, scuffing a boot against one of the larger crate pieces. "Maybe this isn't the same group. I mean, stealing high dollar tech isn't exactly a groundbreaking idea."

Robin pursed his lips as he skirted around a puddle of water. "No… I think it might be the same group." His fingers flew across his wrist as he plunked in information in the computer. "The other crime scenes weren't as," he paused, " _messy_ , but they still have the same things in common. It just looks like something got in their way this time around."

Wally's eyes landed on one of the discarded metal sheets, noting the four parallel gorges ripped out, as if someone had literally pried the metal off the main machine.

"You don't say."

"And then there's this puddle of water."

"It's an old warehouse, Rob. It'd be more suspicious if there _wasn't_ some sign of weather damage."

Robin carried on, seemingly oblivious to Wally's nervous chuckle. "Puddles of water were found at the other spots too with no apparent source. That's how Batman figured out they were connected." He frowned, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. "Water…medical tech…super strength..." He brushed away a bead of sweat along his forehead with the back of his hand.

With a sharp gasp, Robin spun back towards Artemis and Kid Flash. "I know who's behind this!"

Artemis narrowed her eyes as she notched an arrow, aiming for over Robin's shoulder. "Yeah, and I think he's right behind _you_."

* * *

 _Aqualad! M'gann! Superboy! Someone!_

M'gann stopped midflight, wincing as she brought a palm to her pulsing temple.

 _Wally? What's wrong? You sound—is everything okay?!_

 _No—argh!_ Artemis's voice cut into the conversation. M'gann winced again at the jarring emotions flooding her telepathic link. _It was Mr. Freeze—he found us. Kid Flash and I are…down, but Robin ran after him. We tried to stop him but—_

Kaldur, who had been listening with furrowed brow, finally entered the conversation. _Miss Martian, you and Superboy find Robin and help him with apprehending Mr. Freeze. I will assist Kid Flash and Artemis and we'll find a place to rendezvous._

Conner nodded before leaping, smashing through the concrete ceiling without hesitation. M'gann floated after him, calling for Robin's location in her mind. Kaldur watched them before racing back towards Kid Flash's and Artemis's last known location.

"Hey, K-kaldur," Artemis offered a weak smile when he clambered over one of the destroyed pieces of equipment blocking the door. Wally spared a quick grunt, focusing his energy on helping Artemis. He held a vibrating hand to the thick layer of ice coating the right side of Artemis's torso and arm, trying to generate enough heat to melt the ice without accidentally tearing the limb off.

"What happened?"

Artemis winced as the ice crackled under Wally's touch. "Fff-freeze found us," she repeated, shivering. Her exposed core shuddered and clenched as she tried to fight the tremors wracking her body. "I tried to shoot, but he h-h-hit me with that fff-freaking freeze gun."

"Robin ran after him before we could stop him. I couldn't go after him—have to get this off her before it's too late." Wally added, keeping his gaze lowered. "I don't know how much longer it'll take to melt."

"Here, let me try." Kaldur knelt next to Wally, placing a hand on the ice while tucking his other hand behind his back. He closed his eyes and murmured a word in Atlantean, forehead wrinkling as he concentrated. The tattoos wrapping around his arms pulsed a vibrant teal before the ice enveloping Artemis's torso melted in a slush of water.

"Th-thanks," Artemis gasped, gingerly rotating her damp shoulder. "G-god, that was c-cold. Next mission r-remind me to pack a sw-sweater."

Wally hovered over her, poking and prodding at the reddened, ice-burned skin. She swatted him away and he disappeared before reappearing with a tattered comforter, a clothespin still attached. He wrapped it around her shoulders before zipping back to Kaldur's side.

"Thanks, you two." She grinned before reaching for her bow with her left hand.

"Any permanent damage?"

"I'm counting the seconds to my next hot shower, but I should be fine."

Kaldur returned the smile, relieved that his idea had worked. "I am glad to hear that." He straightened up, pulling Artemis into a standing position.

Wally punched an exposed palm, making a satisfying _smack_ as his fingers curled over his balled fist.

"Good, now let's go melt some snowmen."

* * *

 _"What do you_ mean _you can't find him?!"_

"I—he's… I don't know…." M'gann tucked her arms closer to her chest and lowered her gaze from Wally.

"You're kidding right? He _has_ to be here somewhere. Maybe he just got somehow kicked off our signal—"

"Wally," M'gann began in a soft voice. "He isn't here."

"You couldn't find _anything?"_

Conner shouldered himself into the conversation, stepping between the two.

"She's right. There isn't another heartbeat. No one else is in the warehouse."

"Wait. What do you mean by heartbeat? Are you saying that he cou—"

Kaldur pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath in to clear his churning nerves. _Wally and M'ga—no,_ we _are all starting to get anxious. Worrying about this won't help anyone._

"Robin knows more about this villain than we do," he started hesitantly. "Perhaps Robin left the warehouse in pursuit of Freeze."

Kaldur's words did little to placate most of the team, but Wally grabbed onto the explanation with an eager nod. "Yeah, that would explain it. He's probably out of range of Miss M's signal."

"I don't think that's the way it works..." Artemis murmured, hating the pragmatic neutrality to her tone.

Wally pretended not to hear her. Instead he shook his head with a forced smile. "I'm sure Rob will turn up in no time. We won't hear the end of it—how he singlehandedly took down that walking icebox."

* * *

Several hours passed and the remaining team members waited with bated breath for anything—a phone call, a reprimand from Batman, a cheery cackle. However, nothing came. Even as the small search team milled around the thirty-mile radius of the abandoned warehouse, no one could find any more evidence regarding the whereabouts of the missing Boy Wonder.

(Wally was looking for his best friend, alive and well; Conner and Artemis were looking for something more realistic. Miss Martian and Kaldur were stranded in between, hoping for the best, but fearing the worst.)

As a distant siren wailed in the background, the remaining team members regrouped at the warehouse bay, drained and defeated.

"'Not leaving a trace,' huh? So Batman was right after all." Wally allowed himself a bitter laugh as the sun began to dip below the skyscraper-dotted horizon.

Residually stiff and sore from her near-freezing, with the tattered comforter still wrapped around her shoulders, Artemis leaned towards Wally, brushing the worn fabric against his hard shoulder pads.

"Hey, we'll find him, okay? He couldn't have gone too far."

Kaldur glanced from Conner, glaring at the overturned wreckage, to M'gann, slumped against one of the crates in exhaustion. In this state, they wouldn't be of any use to Robin.

"It's time for us to return to the Cave. There isn't anything more we can do here," he began slowly. He expected Wally to contest his decision, but he nodded with the rest of the team, gaze lowered and dull.

Kaldur swallowed and mashed his lips together. It was time to call Batman.

* * *

Batman took the news as Kaldur expected him to: stoically, impassively. Other than the narrowing of the white eyelets in his cowl, Batman didn't react until Kaldur had finished relaying the results of the mission and their fruitless search for their missing team member.

Batman only offered an icy "you should have contacted me sooner," before sweeping out of the room, his cape brushing against the floor with a soft _hiss_ as he turned.

Kaldur didn't even manage to clear his throat (for an apology? an explanation?) before Batman disappeared via zeta tube. He slumped his shoulders before trudging back into the silent living room.

What were they hoping to prove? That _they_ could find Robin sooner than the World's Greatest Detective? Kaldur's ears burned and he gingerly rubbed them, blaming their extended exposure to the sun as the cause.

They should have told Batman sooner, but it didn't matter. He would still find Robin and then everything would be okay in the end.

 _(Right?)_

* * *

Two weeks passed and Wally had become downright unbearable. Even the others were starting to become aggravated at his tendency to appear and disappear with dizzying frequency.

"Would you just sit _still?"_ Artemis had been the first to snap, shoving Wally into the nearest seat when he appeared a few millimeters from her elbow.

"I can't help it!" Wally argued back, slouching further in the couch cushion. "We haven't been able to do _anything_. They won't even let us near the…scene. And I _live_ there!"

Since Robin's disappearance, Batman had pulled their team off any missions for the foreseeable future. Batman hadn't even deigned to deliver the order himself, presumably too busy tracking down his missing protégé. A shifty-eyed Captain Marvel had been the one to relay the message, which didn't inspire much confidence in the remaining team members, since he seemed as unsure and confused as they felt.

The team decided to exploit his uncertainty to their advantage to gain more information about the search for Robin. When they had asked their mentors and instructors earlier, they all received similarly dismissive placations with forced smiles. Only Green Arrow had provided an extra clue, when Conner overheard him complaining about a mission that Batman had "sat out on" to Black Canary.

When Captain Marvel returned to the Cave to check up on them as he did each week, they were ready. Immediately Wally and M'gann attacked him with a barrage of questions while the others watched cautiously from a distance.

"Oh…uhm…" Captain Marvel chuckled nervously at the first question. "Well….uh… We don't—er, Batman doesn't really tell us much."

"But surely you must know _something_ ," Wally insisted, taking an eager step forward. Captain Marvel hastily retreated backwards, finding himself closer to a sour-tempered Superboy.

"Superman's your leader, right? Go ask him."

"Well, actually…"

"Hasn't my uncle assisted too? His powers are suited for finding people. He should know more about it as well."

"Yeah! And Uncle Barry _has_ to be in on this too! Robin disappeared in Central City! That's kind of like his turf."

Captain Marvel slapped his cheeks, the sound ricocheting around the room like a gunshot. The team fell silent, eyeing him warily.

"Okay, liiiisten. I _promised_ them I wouldn't say anything, but this is driving me _crazy!"_ He squinted at them, puckering his lips in a very _un_ dignified manner.

"You can't tell them I told you this— _pinky_ swear _—_ but no one knows what Batman's doing anymore. He's—well, I think he's taking a break from the League. He hasn't been up in the Watchtower since Robin disappeared." He leaned forward, eyebrows jumping upwards. "Apparently, Superman's the only one who still talks to him, but even he says he doesn't know anything."

Wally's shoulders slumped at the news. He almost regretted asking. If Batman had stepped so far back from the others, that could only mean the worst had happened.

"Are the others still looking?"

"Yeah, I think they are. We can't do much though, because uhm…"

"But what?"

Captain Marvel hesitated before glancing over his shoulder. "Apparently, Batman closed Gotham."

"Closed Gotham?" Artemis blinked, startled by the choice of words. Last she checked, her neighborhood was still as crappy as ever, but nothing had changed in the city itself. The bat-signal still glowed against the cloud-streaked dusk sky, still the same old nightlight for as long as she could remember.

"Closed Gotham to the other superheroes," Captain Marvel amended. "I guess he doesn't want anyone's help anymore."

"How can he d—"

"That isn't po—"

"But wha—"

"Aww, man, you guys…" Captain Marvel broke off, rubbing the back of his neck with a grimace. "I think I've said too much. I can't keep this up anymore." His face scrunched up and he looked genuinely upset before backing away, practically jogging away from the teenagers.

Artemis watched him flee with a hoisted eyebrow. "We just tried to interrogate a ten-year-old. What low will we sink to next?"

"Whatever we must," Kaldur finished with a firm nod.

* * *

Black Canary came during the third week. She silenced their questions with a firm slice of her hand.

"Batman will no longer be giving you missions."

M'gann hesitantly raised her hand, waiting for Black Canary to glance her way before voicing her question.

"Does that mean… does that mean that the team is done?"

Black Canary sighed before shaking her head. "No, the team isn't done. If you feel up to it, the League has a new mission for you."

Slowly the remaining team members nodded. It was the first step towards normalcy. They were heroes, after all. It was what they did, damn the consequences.

The corners of Black Canary's eyes creased, but she pulled up the mission parameters on the holoscreen, disregarding whatever comment remained trapped on her tongue.

"Very well. According to satellite photos," Black Canary began, preparing her students for a mission she wished they would abandon.

 _What are we doing? They're still children. We shouldn't be sending them off again so soon._

* * *

"That was Master Richard's school that just called. They would like to know where he's been."

"I've searched everywhere, Alfred."

"I know, sir. We all have."

"The trackers on his uniform—try that again."

"I'm afraid we've tried that already."

"Then the nanomite injection? I know I said I wouldn't ever use them because they were unstable, but this is an emergency. They're find him even…even if he's already go—"

"We activated those two weeks ago. They didn't work either, sir."

"I've searched everywhere, Alfred," Bruce repeated, rubbing at the dark circles under his eyes. His cowl lay a few feet away, still damp from hours spent shielding Batman's face during another lonely, rainy vigil.

"I don't know where he is."

(How many times had he murmured the phrase to an empty cave, long after Alfred had retired for the night?)

"What should I tell the school?"

"Maybe if I go after Freeze's old partn—"

 _"Master Bruce!_ "

"He hasn't been seen since the warehouse, but they have to know where Freeze is holding out."

Alfred sighed before shaking his head. He slowly climbed back up the Batcave steps, feeling his bones creak with each step.

(When had he gotten so old?)

"I apologize for the wait, madam. Mr. Wayne was…a bit indisposed. Master Richard is currently visiting family in Bosnia." A pause. "Mmmhmm, yes indeed. September is a poor time for a trip, but he was adamant about going." Another pause. "When will he return?" Alfred's gaze strayed towards a photograph of wide smiles and a basketball.

"Hopefully soon."

* * *

A month after Robin's disappearance, the _Gotham Gazette_ ran an article about the missing ward of a billionaire, a boy who vanished after a trip to Sarajevo. No ransoms were made; no charges were filed. The Wayne family gave a touching performance, begging for their son's return, no questions asked. Tabloids ran wild with speculations of kidnapping and murder, but soon even the gossip dried up when the tragedy of the rich no longer entertained the masses.

Three years later, when the _Gotham Gazette_ published another article about the same billionaire adopting a feisty young orphan, Richard Grayson was barely more than an endnote.

Four years after Robin's disappearance, a replacement surfaced. Angrier, younger, harsher, but a Robin reborn nonetheless. With his return came a darker Gotham, a darker Batman. Several other partners followed in his footsteps, all dressed in darker colors and bearing darker expressions as they waged war against the darker streets.

An endless night had swept over Batman's city.

Only a handful of citizens—ones who were too stubborn to pack up and leave this new Gotham—remembered the first Robin, the one who quipped as he flipped. The Icarus to the Batman's crusade.

Ten years after his disappearance, Richard Grayson became the name that Gotham forgot.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading!** Hopefully this piqued your interest!

I only have about half (ten chapters) written so far, but I wanted to start posting this now, since I'm afraid that some predictions might actually come true in S3 and I wanna see if I can beat the writers to the punch. Alternatively, I could be completely off and this might be a fun (?), Batfamily-centric side story that's unrelated to everything.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** Wow, thank you guys so much for all the amazing feedback! Sorry for the delay on this chapter. I've been holding off on writing this and the next chapter (why? who knows), but I have chaps 4 through 10 already finished, so we'll get back to regularly scheduled updates soon!

As you'll see, this and the next chapter will focus on introducing the Batfam characters and how they developed without Dick/in Dick's shadow. Some things may differ from what you're used to. Let me know if you have any questions! Hope you enjoy!

* * *

Bruce's first thought was that he was seeing a ghost, hunched over the Batmobile with a tire iron in hand.

However, once his chest muscles loosened and he got a better look at the boy, he realized that his tousled hair wasn't quite black—really, more of a dark brown—and the darkness rimming his blazing eyes was from a smudge of Batmobile grease rather than a domino mask. With another shake of the head, Dick's ghost faded away, leaving Bruce alone in the alleyway with a glaring teenager.

Now that the situation had shifted towards the mundane—this kid wasn't the first to try to rip parts off the Batmobile—Bruce was certain he could handle it.

(It didn't stop the aching though. Not completely. The boy still bore such a startling resemblance to Dick that it made it hard for Bruce to take his barred teeth seriously.)

"What's the big idea, bolting your lug nuts on so tight?" he demanded before Bruce could speak. "It's already hard enough to haul tires without all the extra work."

Safely hidden by his cowl, Bruce hoisted an eyebrow in mild surprise. He wasn't quite amused since the boy had already managed to take off two tires, but he wasn't angry either.

"The idea is to stop people from stealing my tires." Bruce tilted his head as he studied the boy a little closer.

"You wouldn't miss it," the boy said, side-eyeing the titanium paneling of the Batmobile with a sneer. "The tires are probably the cheapest part about this ride."

 _He can't be much older than Dick. Fourteen, fifteen at the oldest._

"What's your name?" He tried to lighten his voice to sound more like Bruce Wayne and less like Batman. He was surprised when it took more of an effort than he expected.

"Wouldn't you like to know. Bet it would make it a helluva lot easier to lock me up in the nearest juvie center."

"No," Bruce countered, keeping his tone level. He wondered when his voice had gotten so gravelly in the first place. "It would make it easier to help you."

The boy narrowed his eyes, grip tightening around the tire iron. "I don't need help from the _Batman_."

Bruce paused, considering the boy's patched-up knees and his stained jacket. "Then maybe you can accept help from Bruce Wayne."

"Right," he scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Like that rich son of a bitch would ever help out someone like me. Never knew the Bat had a sense of humor."

Bruce strode towards the Batmobile, causing the kid to take a few quick, reflexive steps backwards.

 _Maybe there's some sense under all that bluster,_ Bruce mused. "Go talk to Leslie Thompkins and find out yourself. Do you know who she is?"

The kid eyed Bruce for a moment, perhaps searching for a trap or hidden message, before nodding. "Yeah, I heard of her. She runs a clinic close by."

"Good." Bruce felt his lips slacken into a grim smile. It was a strange, unfamiliar sensation and it seemed to throw them both off, because the kid immediately wiped his expression clear. Bruce turned back to the Batmobile when another thought occurred to him.

"And stay away from tire irons."

"Pfft. Whatever, old man."

* * *

"You look good, Bruce." A pause. "How are you?"

"It's been a while. Three years, right?" Bruce responded with a nod. Clark noticed that he didn't answer the question, but he knew better than to push.

"It doesn't have to be this way, you know. Meeting through interviews and public appearances. You're always welcome to come to the Watc—"

"We shouldn't get off topic. You said the Daily Planet wanted an article about my latest fundraiser? Strange for Metropolis to get involved in Gotham's business."

 _Typical Bruce. Changing the subject whenever he wants._ Clark would have rolled his eyes if he hadn't been afraid of being caught mid-act by nearby paparazzi.

(He could see the tabloid headline now: "Metropolis reporter acting above his paygrade? Rolls eyes at billionaire, Bruce Wayne, during interview!")

(Lois would be _furious_ with him. _)_

"You're in the same tax bracket as _Luthor_ , Bruce. _Of course_ people are going to be curious about what you're doing." Clark paused, weighing his next words before speaking. "Especially considering what you did a few months ago."

Bruce leaned back in his chair. "You mean taking in Jason?"

Clark nodded.

"He's a good kid. Bright."

"I'm glad to hear that. But you know… you aren't the only thing in Gotham people are talking about. Everyone's talking about _him._ They want to know who he is, if he's the same Robin or- _"_

"That would defeat the purpose of a secret identity, wouldn't it?" Bruce's expression remained infallibly polite, but there was an underlying glint in his gaze.

Clark lowered his eyes with a sigh; he was getting nowhere with Bruce. He stared at his coffee before tipping cream into the mug. It felt like an eternity had passed since they were last here in this diner, Bruce giving _him_ advice about raising a child. Had he been this stubborn then?

"The League doesn't blame you—or anyone—for what happened to Dick," Clark began softly. "We're wo—we don't want anything to happen to you. Or to him. We just want you to be careful."

Bruce fell silent and Clark resumed stirring until the dark coffee became a pale, milky tan color.

"I remember hearing that you and Lois were expecting a child. Did everything happen as planned?"

"Ah, yes, it did. We had a boy. Lois wanted it to be a surprise, but I couldn't resist a peek—" Clark smiled reflexively, thinking back to the gurgles and sloppy goodbye kisses from that morning. "Jon's two now. He's got Conner wrapped around his pudgy finger." Another second passed before he realized that maybe he shouldn't be babbling about his family in front of Bruce, so he buried his smile in his coffee mug.

"I'm happy for you," Bruce said and when Clark lowered his coffee cup back to the table, he could almost see the old Bruce smiling back at him. Emboldened, Clark opened his mouth to ask about Jason, but Bruce cleared this throat and the opportunity vanished.

"We should get on with this interview. I'm sure you're a very busy man."

Clark sighed. "Of course."

* * *

It was his fourth night decked out in all his Robin gear glory and he already had a stalker. He first noticed it out of the corner of his eye, a flutter of black and gold when he turned his back. Whoever it was grew bolder throughout Jason's first month, coming closer each night, and once he even caught a flash of long red hair when he spun around quickly enough to catch them fleeing.

The next night, Jason was ready, pouncing on his stalker before they could run away again. However, the moment he tightened his grip around their cape, he was bodily thrown to the ground in an impressive shoulder roll.

He blinked at the smoggy Gotham sky, momentarily stunned as he struggled to catch his breath. His attacker loomed in his immediate field of vision, squinting at him as her red hair fell into his face and tickled his nose.

"You aren't him," she said, settling back into a seated position with a disappointed sigh.

 _The hell? B never said anything about crazy fangirls chasing after me._

Now no longer straddled by some girl in a bat mask, Jason sat up, crossing his legs and tilting his head as he studied the girl in front of him.

 _She's wearing a bat symbol on her chest? Does she know Bruce?_ His eyes dropped down to her tattered cape and worn out combat boots. _No, probably not._

"I'm not who?"

The girl looked back at him, her lips drawing into a wry frown. "Seriously? Aren't you supposed to be a detective or something? I'm talking about Robin, of course."

Jason scowled, not sure if he was more insulted by her insinuation that he was oblivious or not a real Robin. "Listen up, Batbabe. I'm the real deal." He punctuated the sentence with a jerked thumb towards his Robin crest. "I work with Batman and everything."

The girl seemed not to hear him. "It was stupid of me to think he was still alive after all this time. I couldn't help it though when I saw the news report." She shook her head with another sigh.

Jason perked up as a thought occurred to him. "Wait a second—how did you know I wasn't, uh, the first Robin?" He knew from old photographs that he looked a little like Grayson. Enough, he believed, to fool the average Gothamite with a fancy smartphone.

The girl considered this with a soft hum under her breath. "You just feel different… not as cheerful, maybe. And you're a little taller, I think. Plus, your voice is definitely deeper."

 _Not as cheerful? What does that mean?_

"Hold up though. You're saying you actually knew the first Robin? You knew who he was? Like, his civilian identity too?"

 _Shit… does that mean she knows who Batman is? Does she know who I am?_

The girl blinked at him. "We were… friends. Classmates."

"Really? That's how you knew him? I was expecting you to say you attacked him in the freight yards or something. Figured that's how you like to introduce yourself."

She laughed and shook her head. "No, nothing that dramatic. I only tackle creeps who try and grab my cape without asking."

Jason smiled at her and she returned the expression. He waited a few moments before starting a new conversation.

"I never met the first one. Not in person, I mean. But everyone seems to have a pretty high opinion of him. Was he really that good of a guy?"

Her grin faded to a soft smile and she nodded.

Jason rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "I figured as much."

The girl looked back at him, scanning over his uniform before her gaze jumped back to his face.

"It's not Batbabe, by the way."

"Huh?"

"That's what you called me earlier. My actual name is Batgirl."

"That's what's written on your birth certificate? And I thought my parents hated me."

Batgirl made a face at him, nose wrinkling and lips puckered. "You'll get the rest of it when you earn it, bird boy."

* * *

"Please? One more? _Please?"_

"Don't you have homework you should be doing, Master Jason? Perhaps your book report?"

"Aww, come on, Alfie. You know I finished that two days ago. B has been running me all around Gotham looking for some snitch, so you gotta give me _something."_

Alfred turned away before Jason could see his resolute expression crack into a smile. He tried to cover it up with an exasperated sigh, before moving back to the kitchen table.

"I'll tell you another story, but you have to help me prepare dinner. We're having chicken and Hassleback potatoes."

Jason's eyes lit up. "Can I cut the—"

Before he could finish, Alfred shoved the sack of potatoes towards Jason along with a vegetable peeler. "You may not. Just because you can throw knives at targets does not mean you will handle them in my kitchen with the same abandon."

"Geez, move over, Bruce. There's a new hardass in the manor."

"Excuse me?" Alfred tried to sound affronted, but he couldn't fake his scowl for long.

"You know I'm kidding." Jason reached for the nearest potato and began peeling while Alfred busied himself by the cutting board. "Now, you promised to tell me a story and make it a good one!"

"Hmm, very well. How about the time Master Bruce nearly met his match at the hands of the Music Meister?"

"Maybe another day, Alfie. Actually, I was wondering if you could tell me something about the first Robin. Grayson."

Alfred's knife sliced through the chicken and struck the cutting board with a jarring _thunk._ Jason glanced over with a frown, setting aside a skinned potato before reaching for another. He scuffed at a spot with a chewed down nail.

"It's just—B never talks about him, so I was curious." Jason shrugged and averted his gaze, glaring at the vegetable peeler. "Y'know what though? Forget I asked. It was a stupid idea." He cleared his throat. "Tell me about the Music Munster or whatever."

"It's alright, Master Jason. I don't mind." Alfred smiled down at the cutting board, momentarily lost in his reminiscing. "I'm grateful you asked. There haven't been many opportunities to talk about him without upsetting Master Bruce."

Jason shifted in his seat, waiting for Alfred to start.

"Have you ever heard the story about the first time Master Richard partnered with another sidekick? A young Wally West, but you might know him better as the first Kid Flash."

Jason shook his head, because of course he had never heard this story before.

(Who would have ever told him?)

* * *

After their last run in with the Joker, Jason spent the first two days unconscious and the next two weeks bedridden. Alfred visited him every day, always bringing fresh cookies and whispered stories. He hadn't seen Bruce since he carried him from the warehouse and away from the Joker's crowbar.

(He knew Bruce had been by his bed, but only while he slept. His blankets had been tucked around his chin far too messily to have been Alfred's handiwork.)

(He appreciated Bruce watching over him during the darkest parts of night, but he felt like he wouldn't be suffering through so many nightmares if he didn't feel so damn alone the rest of the time.)

Another month passed before Jason could walk without crutches. His first steps took him right to his suit, only to find that the display case had been sealed shut.

"Hey, Bruce. What's with the case?"

"It's sealed," Bruce said, not even looking up from his files.

Jason rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I can _see_ that. I'm asking why. Is Alfred ordering me a new suit or something?" Jason gently touched his ribcage and winced when it smarted. "Not gonna lie—after that last mission, I could definitely use some extra padding for a bit."

"That _was_ your last mission."

"Ha, ha. Real _funny_ , Bruce. You should leave the bad jokes to Nygma or the Joker."

"This isn't a joke and it's not debatable. You're through with being Robin."

Jason crossed his arms and turned towards Bruce, expression shifting to disbelief as he registered his words. "Wait, are you serious right now? You're benching me over this? Look, I know you're still pissed that I ran ahead, but we caught the creep, right? Everything turned out okay."

Jason glanced down at the cast surrounding his left ankle. "For the most part anyway. But give me another week or two and I'll be ready to go back out there."

"You _aren't_ going out there again and that's final," Bruce repeated, his voice dropping lower. "Anything could have happened to you."

"Yeah, but it didn't! Because you found me—you got to me in time." Jason's voice rose and wavered with each word. He sounded pitchy to his own ears, especially compared to Bruce's rumbling baritone, but he didn't want to lose being Robin. He _loved_ being Robin.

" _This_ time. But what if I had been too late? What if I lost you again?"

(When he awoke from his pain-killer delirium, Jason had asked Bruce how he found him. Bruce responded that he used injected trackers in his bloodstream. Jason had laughed, thinking Bruce was being melodramatic, but now he wasn't so sure anymore.)

"Lost me again? Bruce, what the hell are you talking about? I'm right _here._ "

"We're not discussing this."

"Tell me why! Why can't I be Robin?"

 _"I'm not losing you again, Dick!"_

He reared back as if he had been slapped, even though Bruce was on the opposite end of the Batcave. Jason blinked rapidly, adverting his gaze from the various costume display cases.

A moment passed before Bruce seemed to realize what he had said.

"I'm sorry."

" _Don't."_

"Jason, listen to me—" Bruce took a cautious step towards Jason.

"Ha!" The laugh was sharp and bitter and it tasted wrong in Jason's mouth. "Oh, so _now_ you remember my name?" He glared at Bruce, daring him to come any closer. Bruce regarded him for a moment before turning back to his work with a shake of the head.

"This was a mistake. I shouldn't have taken on another partner. You weren't— _we_ weren't ready yet."

"A mistake, huh?" Jason swallowed thickly.

( _Saving my life was a mistake? Making me Robin was a mistake?)_

Bruce didn't respond. Jason felt his lip curl. Their fights always escalated to this. If Bruce didn't have to look at him, then he could say whatever he wanted and it wouldn't matter because it was like Jason wasn't even there.

But this time? This time it was different. Jason wasn't about to be ignored. He could feel the anger pounding in his head, his chest, and his broken ankle.

"Maybe you're right. Maybe I made some mistakes that last mission, but guess what—I'm still here. I'm still _alive,_ which is a lot more than you can say for the other one. _"_ Bruce glanced up with a sharp inhale, staring at Jason as if he were seeing him for the first time during their conversation. "And you can try to bury me or protect me or whatever the hell this is—" Jason gestured towards the sealed display case with a jerk of his hand "—all you want, but it still won't bring Grayson back. He's gone, but that doesn't mean you have to drive everyone else away too!"

Before he could see Bruce's reaction, Jason spun around and raced back up the stairs, nearly colliding with a startled Alfred in his desperation to get away.

(He _had_ to get away from Bruce, from the ghost of _him,_ forever haunting Jason. _)_

Instead of bringing him to his bedroom or outside for fresh air, Jason's furious footsteps took him to Grayson's room. He took a deep breath before slipping inside, knowing he would never be disturbed in here.

He rolled his eyes as he reached for the lights switch. Grayson's room was akin to a shrine. He wouldn't be surprised if any form of blasphemy against the first Robin while in this room would be punishable by a bolt of lightning or a plague of batarangs.

Jason frowned as he took in the lightly dusted books and the neatly laundered bed spread. Of all the rooms in the manor he could have fled to for respite and to lick his wounds, he wondered what had possessed him to come here. He narrowed his eyes at the hanging photographs and mounted plaques—another reminder of Grayson's indisputable charm and skill that didn't do a damn thing except get him killed—and turned away.

 _Maybe I shouldn't have come here. It'll just make me angrier._

Jason turned to leave but hesitated when his hand reached the door knob. Wasn't that the reason for him to come here though? To get angry? To vent out the frustration building in his fists?

He eyed the faded circus poster over Grayson's bed, noting how easily it would shred in his hands. It would be so satisfying to destroy everything in this room and—

He sighed and shook his head. Maybe he would have been this spiteful when he was on the streets, but he couldn't bear to imagine Alfred's heartbroken expression when he came in to dust.

(He didn't give a damn about what Bruce would think.)

Still, he knew he couldn't leave without making some sort of mark, even if just to prove to himself that he was a Robin too. He eyed the stack of books on the desk. Feeling a bit like a mischievous cat, he pushed the middle of the stack until several books toppled off the edge and into the floor.

 _Wait, one didn't fall._

He reached for the last book, already ruminating on the possibilities of what he could do to it, but he hesitated when he saw the title.

"Well..." Jason shook his head with a dry laugh. "Would you look at that? Of all the books, _Robin Hood_ survived the fall."

He tilted the book, admiring the shiny red letters in the lamp light.

 _Hood, huh?_

* * *

When the doorbell rang, Alfred wasn't sure what to expect, because he knew they certainly weren't expecting guests. His confusion only mounted when he noticed the rusted bike propped against one of the decorative gargoyles and the bike's rider was waiting at the front door, a pocket-sized notebook in hand.

"Hello," Alfred started slowly, scanning his visitor from his raggedy tennis shoes to his oversized jacket. "How may I help you?"

The boy smiled, flipping open his notebook. "I was hoping to ask Mister Wayne a few questions about one of his previous philanthropic endeavors."

Alfred's smile grew fonder. It was just an overzealous school reporter, he supposed. "I'm afraid Mister Wayne is unavailable at the moment. However, if you are interested in his business affairs, I can provide you with the contact information for one of his managers. I'm sure Lucius would love to speak with you."

"Umm, I appreciate it, but I was hoping to talk to Mister Wayne about something specific." The boy glanced to the side, his lips pulling into a pucker. "It's not exactly business related."

"What did you want to speak to him about again? Something about the Wayne Foundation?"

"Not quite. I wanted to ask about the orphan that he took in."

Alfred nodded slowly, hand creeping towards the door as he mentally rehearsed his best conversation ender. "Ah, I'm afraid Mister Wayne is too busy and Master Jason spends most of his time elsewhere. I'm afraid that won't be possible for you to speak with either of them today."

The boy's eyes glinted. "I wasn't talking about Jason Todd. I want to talk about Richard Grayson, about how he disappeared."

Alfred kept his expression impassive, but his grip on the door tightened. "I don't believe I caught your name, Mister uh…?"

His smile broadened. "Tim. Tim Drake."

* * *

 **Thanks for reading!** Let me know what you think. We'll meet Timmy and Dami in the next chapter before returning to your regularly scheduled YJ story.

Also, I'm lowkey livid that ((KINDA SPOILERS)) YJ introduced a certain member of the SuperClan in today's episodes literally hours before I posted this chapter. I can't believe they beat me to it. However, as you'll see in future chapters, Jon will actually be old enough to participate and not just sit there and gurgle.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:**

Y'all. If you want updates, light roasting is the way to do it. That's the only way I ever get stuff done. I literally have the next seven chapters written, but I've been dragging my feet for the last year on writing this single chapter. Then someone roasted my delayed updating and I wrote this entire chapter in three hours.

I'm not sure how many of you are still out there, but now that I've gotten past this chapter, we can finally move to the meat of the story. Hooray...?

Also: warning for slight language from now on. Jason has a little bit of a potty mouth.

* * *

When Jason returned to the cave for the first time in nearly a year, fully prepared for a dramatic-ass entrance in his new Red Hood ensemble, he didn't expect a tousle-haired kid with dark circles under his eyes to be a member of the audience.

"Who are you?"

The kid didn't even look up from the computer.

"Tim."

It was technically an answer, but a damn useless one, so Jason clarified his question.

"Who _the hell_ are you?"

Tim finally glanced over at Jason and offered him a thin smile. "I'm helping B with some of the investigations."

 _B?_

He blinked. Once, twice.

( _Definitely_ not the entrance he was hoping for.)

"Wait, you _replaced_ me? After all that bullshit about not being _ready_ for a new partner?" Jason rounded on Bruce, whose eyes were still firmly pressed into a microscope eyepiece. " _That's_ rich, even for _you_."

 _God, they could be related. They both have that annoying ignore-everyone-around-me vibe down to a tee._

"Tim's running background on a few cases. He doesn't go into the field."

For some reason, Jason didn't buy it. He eyed the kid until he squirmed.

"You've never been in the field?"

"Well, I've technically never, y'know, worn the cape or anything." Tim chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his head. He glanced back at Bruce, almost as if he were asking permission to share more information. "You know that Donovan case? I had to sneak into a few places to get that intel."

"A few places?"

"Noonan's Bar. Uh, the Iceberg Lounge."

Bruce didn't lift his head, but Jason's eyebrows definitely jumped up.

"You sent him to _Penguin's bar?"_

Jason wasn't sure if he ought to be concerned about the danger or the drinking age. _This kid's what, sixteen? He shouldn't be sneaking into bars._

(Nevermind the fact that Jason had a fake id when he was fifteen. He wasn't nitpicking his own life choices.)

But if he, Red Hood, the new scourge of Gotham's underworld, had the moral high ground to the goddamn _Batman,_ well, he wasn't sure what was going on anymore.

"I had no knowledge of that."

Jason scoffed. _Fat chance._ Bruce knew where everyone went. He would have known about the kid's extra excursions.

 _More likely, he doesn't care as long as the job gets done right. Now that he's starting to see what happens when you get attached, he's stepping back._

(Losing Batgirl had been hard on all of them.)

Jason's lips twisted reflexively as he thought back to a throbbing ankle and a sealed uniform case. _He's changed. A lot._ It wasn't the first time he'd thought it, but each harsh reminder always managed to nail him like a punch to the gut.

Bruce might have given up on keeping this kid safe, but Jason wasn't going to stand by and let someone else get hurt—or killed. He eyed the kid for another second before shaking his head. "Absolutely not," he declared, his voice loud and jarring against the soft clacking of keys.

He set his red helmet back on his motorcycle, tragically unnoticed with this new development, and turned to face Tim.

"Get up! Right now—get up!"

Tim jumped, swiveling his head back towards Jason. "What? I'm working on—"

"I don't _care_. Get up and come over here." Jason stalked towards the sparring platform, a place of so many memories. Whether they were proud or infuriating memories, Jason had yet to decide. However, it was clear those memories weren't shared. From the faint layer of dust and absence of scuff marks, the sparring platform hadn't been used in many, many months. Jason's eyes caught onto the mangled goon mannequin tucked in the distant corner where he had last left it. Its arm was still partially severed after he had vented some of his early frustrations about being benched as Robin.

 _Just as I thought. No one's been using this equipment. If he keeps sending the kid out to do some of his dirty work, he really ought to teach him how to defend himself._

Although clearly wary, Tim shuffled to the edge of the sparring platform. "What do you want?"

Jason noticed that the casual snark in the kid's voice had disappeared. _Maybe that's cause he's finally figured out who he's dealing with._ A hint of pride tinged his next thought. _I was Robin, after all._

"Punch me," Jason said, squaring up with Tim.

"Punch… _you_?"

"Yeah, you clearly heard me, so do it." Jason jerked a thumb towards the red crest stitched across his chest. He still hadn't gotten used to it. He'd sometimes pause and ogle at it whenever he'd glimpse it in the reflection of dark, glassy windows. It felt weird to be wearing something that wasn't bright yellow.

Tim glanced from Jason to Bruce. Unsurprisingly, Bruce wasn't paying them any attention.

"Come on, _do it."_

Tim sighed and pulled a pained expression, but he took a halfhearted step closer to Jason. He reared back a fist and swung.

Jason almost wanted to laugh at the comically bad effort. He knew the kid had to have _some_ guts if he infiltrated places like the Penguin's overpriced hangout. But from this display? There wasn't much to be impressed about.

"Seriously? That's all you got?"

Tim wrinkled his nose and swung again, this time a little faster.

 _That's better. Still too slow, but at least he's putting more effort into it._

Jason sidestepped the lunge and Tim's momentum carried him further than he was anticipating. Jason caught Tim's fist as he stumbled past and twisted his arm behind his back. It wasn't enough to cause any serious damage—he could have snapped the kid's arm like a toothpick if he wanted to—but it was enough to get Tim angry.

Tim wriggled against Jason's grip, shooting him a glare over his shoulder. "Let _go."_

He tried to jerk out of the hold again, but Jason kept his grip tight against Tim's wrist. "You think some goon is going to let you go 'cause you asked nicely?"

"I _didn't_ get caught!"

"But it's only a matter of time. You're completely unprepared. And you know what happens to dumbasses who charge into situations they shouldn't?" He tugged Tim's arm back a fraction of a millimeter further to prove his point, eliciting another hiss of frustration.

 _Shit. That was almost good advice._ He wasn't used to being the sensible one. Past-him would have kicked his own ass for spouting advice like some wistful old man.

 _At least he would have known how to do it properly._ Which was a whole lot more he could say for this kid.

Tim stopped struggling and Jason relaxed his grip. Jason expected him to dart away, back to the safety of his computer, but Tim spun around, jerking his opposite elbow high. He would have clipped Jason solidly on the nose if he hadn't jumped back in time.

"I thought I told you to _punch_ me. Not break my goddamn nose."

Tim smiled, but it wasn't the same breezy, nonchalant smile from before. "I _did_ punch. And when that didn't work, I had to get creative."

Jason shrugged and turned to leave the sparring platform. The kid might have some spunk, but spunk alone wasn't going to be enough to save him.

 _(Seriously?_ This kid was giving him a wicked case of déjà vu. If Jason wasn't careful, _he'd_ be the one in danger of getting attached.)

Instead of trailing after him, Tim remained on the sparring platform, rubbing at the raw skin around his wrist. "But, uh, do you think you could show me that move again? The arm twist?"

Jason felt his own lips quirk into a smile. Maybe the kid wasn't as hopeless as he seemed.

The next thirty minutes were a hot mess. Tim probably ingested more dust than he had anticipated, but by the end, he was able to replicate Jason's arm grasp with a clumsy grapple of his own.

After muttering a grudging promise that he'd come back to teach Tim again, Jason headed towards his bike, thoroughly ready to be done for the day.

"You're still slow on your left side," Bruce remarked as Jason passed by. Jason threw a scathing glare over his shoulder and kept walking. "If your ankle is still slowing you do—"

"My ankle's _fine."_

"Then you should lead with your right side," he continued as if he hadn't heard Jason's hissed interruption.

 _To hell with what Bruce has to say. He can give advice when he's the one in the training ring._

Jason revved up his bike and tore out of the Cave before Bruce could offer more advice. He pitied the first crook who'd cross his path that night.

* * *

 _"Breaking News! Former sidekick, Kid Flash, has been recovered from the Speed Force after an intense, joint effort from many members of the Justice League. The former sidekick to the Flash vanished after sacrificing himself during—"_

Tim replayed the clip until he could pick out every inflection and dip in Cat Grant's voice. When the clip played out for the seventh time, he sighed and leaned back in the computer chair.

He didn't like the silence that followed. He reached for the tab button to play the clip again—

"If you don't stop playing that clip, I'm going to shoot out all the monitors. To _hell_ with how much B had to pay for them."

Tim jumped at Jason's voice right over his shoulder. He hadn't heard him approach. Pretty embarrassing for someone who had recently earned the right to wear the Robin badge.

"How—how long were you there?"

Jason snorted and crossed his arms. "Enough to know you're obsessed with that clip. Seriously, let it rest. You're about as creepy as B was when it first came out."

 _Bruce watched it too?_ Tim hadn't known.

"So I know why it got B's attention, but what about you? Got a thing for Cat?"

Tim wrinkled his nose. He'd been having bad luck with blondes lately. _"No."_ He chewed on the base of his lip as he mulled over the real reason. He knew what he was about to say would sound ridiculous. He wasn't sure if he was in the mood for the inevitable verbal ribbing that would surely come afterwards.

"Did you know him? The first Kid Flash."

"West?" Jason's gaze drifted towards the frozen frame on the main computer screen. Sobbing superheroes and blinding grins and uniforms that hadn't been seen for years.

"Mmhmm."

Jason shrugged. "Yeah, a bit. Not well, but I knew him."

Tim sat up a little straighter. "How? What's he li—"

"Woah, slow down. I only said I knew him a little. We crossed paths a few times before he disappeared. I know his girlfriend—Artemis—better," Jason nodded towards the blonde woman decked out in green on the screen. She was one of the superheroes closest to Kid Flash, gripping him with such a tight exuberance.

"She's originally from Gotham," Tim supplied, pulling on his deep knowledge of the various members of the first sidekick team.

"Yep. They're both a couple years older than me. When West disappeared, she and I teamed up on a few missions to get some information. She had an 'in' with the League of Shadows and I had a few questions of my own.

Tim mashed his lips and nodded. He remembered hearing a few stories about the adventures Jason had gotten himself tangled up in as an Outlaw. He knew that Bruce had _not_ been amused.

 _Though, to be fair, Bruce isn't amused by a lot of things._

"None of it ended up helping West, but it all turned out fine in the end." Jason smiled at the frozen clip. "This'll make me sound sappy as hell, but I'm glad she finally found him."

"That _does_ make you sound sappy."

Jason rolled his eyes. " _Anyway_ , spill: why are you watching this clip?"

Tim scratched the back of his neck. "I guess I felt guilty about it."

"Why, were _you_ the one who tried to destroy the planet?"

He scowled. " _No_ , but—" he hesitated with another shrug. "Part of me wonders if we could have done something to stop it. Or at least prevented things from getting so bad."

"Ahh…" The sound came out more like a sigh. "Right. Yeah, I remember you getting bent out of shape about it earlier."

When Tim had pressured Bruce into looking into Wally West's disappearance, Bruce had been adamant about it not being a "Gotham issue".

Tim's eyes drifted back to Artemis's joyful expression. _We might have been able to reunite them sooner. If only we were part of the League again. If it wasn't just the handful of us in Gotham._

 _We're_ heroes. _We should help people regardless of where they live._

"It's just so frustrating," Tim said with another gusty exhale. "We should be in the Watchtower and working with others and _doing more._ But we can't—not as long as Bruce keeps up his ridiculous grudge."

Tim knew it was much more than a grudge, but after so many years, he wondered if it was time to let things go.

(He _never_ would say that in front of Bruce. He wasn't altogether thrilled with some of the policies enforced by their pointy-eared boss, but he wasn't suicidal.)

"You know there's more to it than that," Jason countered, voicing Tim's thoughts out loud. He wasn't nearly as careful about tiptoeing around Bruce as Tim was, but even he knew which landmines were more dangerous. "Ever since Gray—"

"Dick."

"Rude. I'm only—"

"His name was Dick. That's—that's what they called him."

Jason frowned, tilting his head. "They?"

"His team." Tim minimized the news screen and pulled up a carefully encrypted folder. Bruce had tried his damnedest to keep it secure, but even he wasn't a match for Tim's curiosity. "I've been watching their old training footage from Mount Justice. Before it, uh, blew up. At first, I thought it would be useful to watch how he fought. And then after Wally disappeared, I wanted to get a better idea of what the Speed Force was."

Tim had had his theories and he wasn't going to let Bruce's aversion keep him from looking into them.

"But then I got distracted by watching them all interact."

Tim swallowed and played a clip. A hyperactive speedster, a quippy bird, and the exasperated Atlantean who tried to keep the peace. When Tim glanced back at Jason, he noticed the latter didn't seem altogether surprised.

 _I bet he's seen this footage too. It'd be impossible not to resist._

"They all call him Dick. That's his name. I—I never knew that."

"Er, well, yeah? Of course he'd have a name." Jason frowned. He had entertained a lot of Tim's more scatterbrained schemes and ramblings, but this time Jason was worried he might have lost him.

"It's more than that."

 _He had a nickname._ It was bizarrely humanizing. For as long as he could remember, the first Robin had been just that—a position, a person who no longer existed, a _myth._ The thought that he could have a _nickname_ rattled Tim far more than he would like to admit.

"Oh…kay?"

"You and Barbara always called him 'Grayson'. Alfred only refers to him by Master Richard. And Bruce? Bruce _never_ talks about him. If it weren't for his team, I never would have known."

Tim's eyes drifted back to the staticky frame of three grinning faces, frozen forever in time. There was so much to know about their predecessor. Tim was the apprentice to the World's Greatest Detective, yet complete strangers knew so much more than him. Why did that feel so wrong?

Not for the first time, Tim wished they didn't have to be strangers.

* * *

"Detective."

"Ra's," Bruce responded with a polite dip of his head.

"I was pleased when you accepted my invitation. From the rumors I heard, I feared you would not leave your city."

He wouldn't have normally left, but there was something in the phrasing of Ra's letter that suggested noncompliance would not be tolerated.

Besides, it would give him a much-needed distraction.

"I thought it would be fitting, today being the anniversary of—"

"I know what day it is," Bruce countered, his voice taking on a slight growl.

Nine years. Nine years since Mr. Freeze disappeared, taking Dick with him.

Ra's eyed him for a moment before turning away. "Of course you do. My apologies for bringing back harsh memories, but rest assured there's a reason."

"A reason?" Something fluttered in Bruce's chest before he savagely clamped down on it. Dick was gone. Ra's wasn't nearly as cruel as some of the other villains he faced. Still, being hopeful was dangerous. It made him vulnerable.

"I was deeply troubled by the fate of your young sidekick." Ra's pursed his lips. "Richard was excitable and overeager, but he was a talented boy."

Ra's continued. "I want you to know, Detective, that the League of Shadows played no role in this. When I heard of his disappearance, I sent many of my best assassins to search for the boy. His death would not have benefited us."

Bruce remained stone-faced. He had already known. There had been a surge of assassin sightings near Gotham, yet strangely few assassinations.

"We too were unable to find any evidence of his whereabouts. This… was perplexing, but there was little else we could do for him." He paused and tilted his head, his vibrant green eyes locking onto Bruce's.

"However, there is still something I can do for you."

"Do for me?" Bruce stayed guarded, impassive. There was little that Ra's could give him that he might ever desire. Instead, Ra's offer felt like a padded trap.

"You have grieved the loss of your young partner for nine years, but the time for mourning will soon be over." Ra's glanced over his shoulder and barked a short, brisk command. The red curtain behind him fluttered and fell still.

"Today, I offer you a new son. A son of your own flesh and blood. When it became clear that young Richard would not return, my daughter and I endeavored to replace the son you have lost."

Bruce's brow creased, his memories flickering at a hazy, deeply buried memory. _Talia…_

"Come, Damian."

The red curtain shifted, revealing a scowling boy with dark skin, dark hair, and even darker eyes. Bruce's frown deepened. The boy had to be twelve or thirteen. He would have been alive before Di—

Ra's smiled, his lips pressed thin as if he anticipated Bruce's silent confusion. "We accelerated his growth and training so he would be of use to you sooner, but it has taken some time for him to finally be ready. Perfection cannot be rushed."

"Perfection?"

 _Does he mean this boy is my son?_

"You finally have an heir who will not be as lost as easily."

The boy smiled, though there was little warmth behind the expression. "Hello, father." He tilted his head, looking Bruce up and down. Then he wrinkled his nose.

"Hmm. I thought you'd be taller."

* * *

"Jay! Hey, wait up!"

Jason kept up his breakneck pace. He wasn't going to stop until he was out of earshot of that brat's whine.

" _Jay!"_ Tim hurried alongside him, panting slightly as he tried to keep up with Jason's long-legged strides.

He sighed and slowed. As long as he was still moving—even if a bit slower than earlier—it still counted as getting the hell out of there.

"I know what you're going to say. He's still getting used to living with B and it's going to take a few more months for him to learn how to play nice. But _seriously_ , Tim? You're the one who ought to be more pissed than me. He's gunning for your blood. I already have to deal with _one_ moody-ass Wayne. I'm not going—"

"I quit."

Jason staggered to a stop. So much for his dramatic exit.

"You _what?"_

"I quit being Robin. Like, ten seconds ago."

"You _quit_ being Robin?"

Jason wasn't sure if he ought to be impressed or disappointed. Losing the title of "Robin" hadn't been a choice for him. Bruce had stolen it away when he thought Jason was no longer able to keep up. Grayson hadn't had much of a choice either: Mr. Freeze or whoever killed him made that point clear.

Still, he had to hand it to Tim: he had guts for doing something so dramatic. Almost made him wish he stuck around to see B's face.

( _Oh, who am I kidding. That guy probably didn't even flinch.)_

"I told Damian the mantle was his and I wasn't going to stand in his way. The smile he gave me afterwards…" Tim shuddered. "That thing is not a normal child."

Jason fell silent and shoved his hands in his pockets. "So, that's it then. You're done. Free."

Tim scratched the back of his head, looking over Jason's shoulder. "Er, I wasn't planning on being _done_ done. Just done with being Robin. I can still help Gotham without the yellow cape."

For Jason, being Robin was synonymous with crimefighting and making a difference. They were one and the same, tangled in his own identity. Even when he lost the right to be Robin, the mantle still loomed over him like a shadow. He only became Red Hood as a way to spite Bruce and the pre-formed mold he had tried to force him into. Giving up Robin voluntarily—it seemed unreal to Jason.

 _Then again, Tim didn't take up the mantle the same way I did. He_ sought _it out._

If the stories from Alfred were to be believed, the kid had practically _hounded_ Bruce until he gave in. There had been a choice there too.

Tim kept talking. "I mean, being Robin is still important. People look to the suit for hope… and I don't think they'll get a lot of that with my replacement. I'd like to keep a part of it alive. But Damian is going to straight up merk my ass if I don't change _something_ about the name."

Now Tim was starting to get antsy. He cleared his throat and shifted from foot to foot. "So, uh, I thought about becoming Red Robin."

"Red Robin?" Jason blinked, brow furrowing. "Wait… _red?"_

"Yeah, Red Robin. I mean, I'm grateful to B for giving me the chance to be Robin." He paused. "But it's only fair that I thank you too, since you're the one who taught me so much." Tim shuffled his feet again. "What do you say about Red Hood and Red Robin teaming up?"

Jason stayed silent.

"If you think it's stupid, I can change it." Tim peeked back at him and leaned forward, squinting. "Hold up. Are you cr—"

Jason forced a loud groan and turned away before Tim could get closer. "Seriously? I thought you were the _smart_ one. Just adding 'Red' to Robin? That's some Arkham-caliber bullshit naming." He feigned pinching the bridge of his nose, sweeping his sleeve across his eyes along the way. He spun on his heels and resumed his breakneck pace.

"I thought you'd like it," Tim said, trotting after him with a smile.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading! Next chapter (and this time I'm not lying) will be up soon.**

This fic has basically become me throwing all my favorite headcanons and canon Easter eggs into a single story. Hope you're enjoying this wild, self-indulging ride.

p.s. i'm hoping everyone is staying as safe and healthy as they can with the current situation. if you need DC/batboy fluffiness, let me know


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:**

Thank you so much to everyone who's commented/followed/bookmarked this story! I loved reading through all of your roasting comments and now I'm very toasty :)

I originally planned to keep this on a weekly update schedule, but I couldn't help but sneak a new chapter early. It's all 'cause of your wonderful support

* * *

"Yeah, yeah. I got it the first time. You don't have to worry, Uncle Barry." Wally paused, rolling his eyes good-naturedly as his uncle continued to jabber on the other end. "Yeah, it's not a problem. I mean, you weren't expecting to run into anything, right? It's just going to be a maintenance sweep, _right_?"

Wally fell silent again as his uncle kept talking, reassuring him that Wally's impromptu mission was going to be a breeze, a quick jog around the block.

 _Yeah, right. Where have I heard_ that _one before?_

After a dodgy goodbye and a promise to meet up once Barry was back on Earth, Wally hung up with a sigh.

 _When's that man going to retire?_ He shook his head before dropping the phone back on the couch cushion.

"This better be fast. Like, _Flash_ fast," he grumbled, scowling at his reflection in the window. "And of all the nights, too. Artemis will be _pissed_ if I'm late."

Wally laughed under his breath as he reached for his least worn pair of sneakers. "One of the fastest guys in the world and I'm always late." As he tugged out one of the many triple knots in his laces, Wally chewed on the inside of his lip, reconsidering his decision to go out in civvies. He couldn't remember the last time he wore his uniform (that was a lie; he could, but he didn't want to), but racing around the sewers in jeans would get old—and painful—really fast.

 _No pun intended, but man…. The chafing._

Wally groaned and dragged his hands down his face. _If Barry wanted a speedster to check over Central City, he should have called Bart. Bart would have_ loved _to do it. Bart_ likes _running around in dark, damp holes in the ground._

Still, the exercise wouldn't kill him. With another grunt, Wally pushed himself into a standing position and stretched for good measure. He compromised on leaving the uniform behind by fishing his old comlink out of an empty flower vase. He tucked it behind his ear before grinning.

 _If I can hurry it up, maybe I can stop by the florist and pick out something for Artemis. Yeah, that would be nice._

* * *

"I'm changing my name."

M'gann frowned, unsure if she had heard him right. "What's wrong with Conner? I… always liked your name."

"No, not _that_ name. _Superboy."_

"Well, what's wrong with Superboy?" Zatanna flicked a brow upwards and she joined them at their table. "I think it's kind of cute."

" _That's_ what I mean," Conner grumbled with wry twist of his lips. "I'm _not_ cute."

"Okay, so you're adorable then?" Zatanna grinned as she patted Conner on the top of the head. He scowled and crossed his arms, but neither complained nor shrugged her off. Since branching off from the rest of the younger sidekicks and forming a new team, the last remaining members of the original squad had grown close. Zatanna's frequent prods about his perpetually youthful appearance didn't bother him. At least, not anymore.

"Besides, I think Jon wants the name for himself. He's too scared to ask, but—"

"Nothing says there can't be two Superboys," M'gann countered. "On Mars, many of us would share parts of our na—"

"Do you know how confusing that would get?"

"We could label you Superboy I and he could be Superboy II. I'm sure there are _other_ heroes who have done something similar."

"That's not—no, I'm saying I'm getting too old for Super _boy_."

"Even if you still look the part, Mr. Super-Early-Mid-Life-Crisis?"

Kaldur, the last to arrive, listened to their conversation from the door's threshold before approaching their table. He had come to brief them on their newest mission while most of the League members were off-planet, but he decided this was a conversation it wouldn't hurt to have first.

"I understand Conner's point. It's been over ten years since we first made this team. We aren't sidekicks anymore. No one would blame you if you wanted to find a name that better suited you. After all," Kaldur added, his smile stretching, "I myself passed on the 'Aqualad' title several years ago."

"That's what happens when you silly guys choose names like 'lad' and 'boy.' You age out of them." Zatanna laughed, glancing over towards M'gann for support. "Isn't that right, Megan?"

She smiled weakly back. "I don't know if 'Miss' is much better, but I think I'm going to keep it. It's…nice to hold onto something from the beginning. When we all used to be together." M'gann paused, tapping her chin with a finger. "Though, it might be time to cross the ' _Teen'_ from the beginning of our team name. We aren't teenagers anymore."

"Agreed," Conner added with a roll of the eyes. Even if dropping "Superboy" didn't work, at least their team name could sound more mature.

Zatanna grinned. "Good. Now that that's settled, what's our first official mission as the _Titans_?"

* * *

He had forgotten how nice it felt to _run_. As he skidded and raced around the underground tunnels of Central City, Wally reveled in the chance to be _free._ To expend all his pent-up energy without worries of watching eyes. It was moments like this that made him regre—

Immediately he forced himself to a stop, his jacket buttons and the batteries in his flashlight rattling as they caught up, a millisecond behind. Thinking thoughts like that was _dangerous._ He intentionally checked out of his old superhero gig because there was too much at stake. He had almost lost everything once and he wasn't going to risk it again, not for some adolescent rush.

 _For Christ's sake, I'm twenty-six now. I'm not some kid anymore._

Wally shook his head and resumed his sweep, keeping his speed down to a casual walk as he let his mind and the endorphins clear. Eager for an even greater distraction, Wally focused on the crumbling walls and debris, catching a new glimpse of destruction with every sweep of the flashlight.

 _Hmmm. Barry said Central City was hit pretty hard by that earthquake. Apparently they even felt some aftershocks all the way in Gotham. At least…_ Wally paused, prodding at a slab of concrete with a stained sneaker. _At least that's what Artemis's mom said._ He wouldn't know—hadn't been to Gotham in years. He would always insist that he "hold down the fort" in Palo Alto whenever Artemis would visit her mother.

He jerked his flashlight up and followed the beam from the heavy slab to the cracked concrete support beam from which it came. Super speed or not, Wally did not want to be anywhere near it when the rest of it collapsed. With a quick hop and a skip, he cleared the debris and finally relaxed when he was out of the danger zone.

 _I don't know what Barry wants me to be looking for. The quake was nearly two weeks ago. Anybody who was caught—err, the search teams wrapped up already, so there isn't much I could do. At least not now._ Wally pursed his lips and kept moving, making notes in his head of particularly damaged areas.

 _Is that really what this is? A simple surveying mission?_

Wally didn't usually like the connotations of the term _"mission,"_ but Barry's request was turning out to be a lot less stressful than he anticipated. He glanced down on the map on his phone, grateful that he had had the forethought to download it before entering the tunnels. Even just a few steps into the tunnels, Wally noticed his signal had plunged from four bars to zero. Wally squinted at his phone screen. It was far too bright for the dark tunnels. If he wasn't careful, his battery was going to run out and he would have to figure a way topside himself.

 _No, I should be fine. It looks like there's just one more wing to cover. I can handle that in…oh, 28%._ He reached for his forehead, but frowned when his fingers brushed only hair instead of goggles. He curled them into a fist and dropped them by his side.

 _Right. I probably should hurry then. I don't want to be late for dinner._

* * *

Capable of breaking the sound barrier in a single bound and surpassing light itself, Wallace Rudolph West finally met his match: a three-inch slab of concrete protruding from the floor. His foot collided with the small roadblock at a breezy fifteen miles per hour, sending him tumbling in a grumbling bundle of limbs. His feet were fine—reinforced titanium toes in all his "running" shoes, courtesy of Cyborg—but his pride and the flashlight took a hit. Wally rolled himself onto his scraped knees before crawling towards the flashlight, dented and flickering.

"Seriously?! I just bought these jeans too. If I've al—" He froze as he reached for the flashlight, a forearm suspended in the air.

 _Was…was that a draft?_

Wally wrinkled his nose as he sat back on his heels. He fished his phone from his pocket and inspected the map again.

 _That doesn't make sense. There shouldn't be anything here. What kind of one-way tunnel has a draft?_

Wally shifted a little closer to the cooler air, pressing a hand against the cracked concrete.

"There's obviously something here," he declared loudly, as if trying to explain away the creepiness. He hated how the hairs on the back of his neck trembled. "Uncle Barry must have missed a spot on his original map…probably."

A large part of Wally's subconscious _screamed_ for him to ignore his new discovery. After all, it was a small crack—hardly large enough for anything…or any _one_ to slip through.

 _Besides, it isn't on Barry's map. It wouldn't have been anything_ he _would have checked out either._

There would be no reason to feel guilty if he just carried on and finished surveying the last tunnel. No reason at _all_.

 _Dammit!_

Wally muttered under his breath as he crawled further _away_ from the exit, trailing a tentative hand across the wall to feel for shifts in temperature.

" _Now_ I bet you wish you brought your stupid goggles with the stupid infrared. All it would have took was one quick sweep and _boom!_ No more creeping around in abandoned, collapsing tunnels. Look what you're doing now—chasing after nonexistent _holes in the wall!"_

Wally frowned when his fingertips slipped off the edge of the concrete. He waved his hand a few inches back and forth in the newest crack, only feeling cool air. Rolling his eyes upwards in a silent plea, he shoved his arm deeper into the crack and waved it around, belatedly realizing how tantalizing it would look to some cave dwelling monster.

 _Now you're being ridiculous,_ he chastised himself before taking a deep breath. _But not as ridiculous as this._ He sucked in his gut before shimmying through the crack. After a few inches of tight squeezing, he slipped through and found himself able to stand. Wally swept the dimming beam of his flashlight along the walls and ceiling, noting with a whistle that the room was much bigger than he first thought.

Wally exhaled, his breath coming out in a wispy mist. The tunnels themselves had been chilly, but this cavern was significantly colder. Wally rubbed his upper arms before taking a tentative step forward. Emergency lights flared to life, illuminating the rest of the cavern in stages like toppling dominos. Wally kept moving, eyeing the burst pipes and the icicles dangling from the rusted steel. Dilapidated technology spanned across the walls, a few machines still whirling woefully.

"Barry _definitely_ didn't know about this."

Wally was too deep now. His own curiosity wouldn't let him leave without finding out its purpose. He paused by the loudest machine, brushing away a layer of dust with the hem of his sleeve. Whoever these people were, they hadn't been by in a long time.

Wally squatted down, squinting at the innerworkings of the machine. He recognized some of the parts, but most were foreign, unfamiliar.

"The generators must have been strong enough to withstand the earthquake…and whatever else might have happened. But what's the point of it all?" He straightened up with a groan, scanning over the control panel again for another clue. His gaze landed on a pulsing red button. He brushed the dust away from the label and frowned.

"Resurrect?"

 _Yeesh. Creepy much?_

Wally had seen enough B-level horror movies and stopped enough supervillains to know whatever that button did, it was _bad._ He snapped a few photos of the button and control panel before backing away. He wanted to keep looking for answers, but now his teeth were chattering and he was starting to feel a bit out of his depth. This was something an _actual_ hero should check out, not a retired sidekick.

He had just about reached the gorge in the wall when the machines started whirling louder. He felt his stomach drop when an icy crackle filled the room.

 _"Manual startup commencing. Accessing data entries. Entry 1, date May 8, 2011."_ Wally wandered closer, unable to pull away from the voice. Something about it felt so familiar.

 _"This is Dr. Victor Fries."_ Wally took a sharp breath, feeling the cool air burn his throat and nose. It was a voice he chased in his nightmares, a sound he was never fast enough to catch. " _I have agreed to their terms, but I do not understand their interest in my technology. It is not for me to wonder why. If there is the slightest chance that my precious wi—"_ The recording broke off with a jarring crackle.

 _"—Entry 12, date June 24, 2011. Preparations have begun, per my sponsor's instructions. I believe the Bat suspects me, but it doesn't matter now. Within a few months, nothing will matter anymore. My contract will be completed."_

Wally forced himself to keep his breathing steady, staring at the pulsing red button.

 _Flash. Flash. Flash._

 _"—Entry 43, date August 13, 2011."_ Wally's heart picked up speed, pounding so hard he was afraid it would rip his ribcage apart.

 _No… no. That was_ the _day. The day Dick disappeared._

He was a teenager again, racing through villain lairs and rigged warehouses. Messily tiptoeing around Artemis without realizing he was falling deeper in love. Trying to keep a straight face when Conner or M'gann misused a common colloquium or snickering when Kaldur complained of strange surface traditions. Having no one to share these private jokes with. Searching for his best friend until his feet were literally bleeding, his world spiraling out of control because he couldn't keep up.

 _"The test subject was successfully introduced to his stasis pod. I know the Bat will come for me, so I must leave now. I must not let this chance to revive my precious Nora slip away aga—"_

The recording stopped, forcibly yanking Wally back into the present.

"The hell was that…." Wally managed to croak after a lengthy pause. "Where's the rest of it?"

He curled his trembling fingers into fists. _"Where's the rest of it?!"_ Wally repeated, his voice rising. With a frustrated grunt, he brought his fist down, breaking through the aged plastic paneling. He immediately pulled his hand back, cradling it close to his chest.

 _Wow, West. Really mature._ He shook his head, trying to dislodge any memory of Freeze's voice from his mind. _I need to get out of here_ now.

As he turned to go, three things occurred at once: the "resurrect" button flared an angry red; the machines started whirling faster to the point of screaming; and, a thick plume of fog billowed from a previously unnoticed corner, followed by the sound of hydraulic hissing.

 _Stop. Stop. Stop. You idiot, stop walking toward it! Turn back around—dammit, I need to know._

Fighting off body-wracking shivers from the cold and apprehension, Wally cautiously moved towards the rising fog. It curled around his torso, misting his hair and skin with a fine layer of condensation. As the thicker plumes cleared, he caught a glimpse of the source.

 _It…it looks like Conner's old Cadmus pod,_ he realized. A second later, he noticed it was occupied, the inhabitant blurred and distorted by the crystalline layer of ice lacing the glass window.

He could still see the colors though. Reds, blacks, and yellows.

Wally's heartbeat skyrocketed until he felt his pulse rattling in his head, his thumbs, his toes. He stumbled towards the containment pod and pressed a palm to the cold glass. The sound of outdated, creaky hydraulics grating and grinding momentarily tore his attention away and he took a reflexive step back as the glass front swung up. Another swell of icy fog erupted from the machine like a final gusty exhale. He squeezed his watering eyes shut as the cold rushed through him. It felt like death.

When he pried his eyes open, he found himself staring, gapemouthed, at his best friend. Pale, still, cold, but Robin nonetheless. Wally swallowed, forcing the thick lump in his throat to go down. The same age he had been when he disappeared, ten years ago.

 _No..._

"Dick…?" He breathed, barely believe his own eyes. "I'm—" Wally reached out a shaking hand and rested it around the back of Robin's icy neck, brushing his fingers against the slick collar of his cape. He pulled Robin closer to him, stifling a gasp in Robin's slender shoulder as he blinked the sting from his eyes. He never admitted it out loud, since it seemed too final, but he had always suspected—always _feared_ —that Robin didn't survive their last mission.

"I'm so sorry…" he murmured, feeling the painful scar rip open again, years after he had sutured it closed. With his other arm, he tugged Robin out of the containment pod. His knees buckled under the weight and he slowly lowered them both to the ground.

"Please, _please_ forgive us for not saving… _you_?" Wally's brow wrinkled as he scanned over Robin's prone form again. Was he hallucinating...or did Robin's chest just rise? With mashed lips and bright eyes, Wally held his own breath, keeping himself perfectly still to sense any possible movement. He felt Robin warm in his arms and a slow, sluggish beat started pounding outside of Wally's fingertips.

Unable to tear his disbelieving gaze from the color rising in Robin's cheeks, he fumbled blindly in his pocket for something, _anything_ that could help. He tossed his phone aside, not even bothering to look where it fell, before tugging the squashed earpiece from his back pocket.

"This—" Wally's voice cracked and he cleared his throat with a shaky cough. "This is Wally West, uh, former Kid Flash. The first one. Is anyone there?"

 _Please._ Someone _be there._

"This is an emergency! Is anyone there?"

"Hi, hi, Wally! It's been a whi—"

" _Garfield!"_ Wally grasped onto the voice like a drowning man. "Where's Megan? And the others?"

"Oh, they're off doing some cool mission for the Justice League and left me up here to watch the – _ha_! Watch the Watchto—"

"Gar, I don't have much time. Patch me to her _right now!"_

Wally shifted Robin in his arms. He was growing cold again, his wheezing breaths growing fainter.

 _Dammit! No, no, no. I_ won't _lose you again._

 _"Wally? Are you okay? Gar said you sounded upse—"_

"I need help! It's-it's Dick… he's here. _Alive_."

* * *

 _Hey, Sis!_

 _Gar?_ M'gann blinked, slipping out of the current mission for a moment. _Is something wrong?_

 _Other than me being super bored? Nah, I just got a call from Wally._

 _Wally?! Is he okay?_

 _Dunno. He wasn't saying much, but he wanted to talk to you real bad. Said it was an emergency. I'll patch him through._

 _Yes, please do._ She eyed their targets, snarling monkey-biosoldiers, before disappearing. The rest of her team could hold on for a few moments without her help. She pressed two fingers to her temple, searching for Wally's mind. It seemed… Well, she wasn't exactly sure how to describe it.

"Wally? Are you okay? Gar said you sounded upse—"

 _"I need help! It's-it's Dick… he's here. Alive."_

Still sorting through the added chaos of Wally's swirling thoughts, it took M'gann a moment to register the words. Several sluggish seconds later, she finally managed to process what Wally had said.

 _"He's…alive?"_

Her vision clouded as her mind brought up memory after memory of Robin, the way she had always remembered him. Ten years had passed—what would he be like now? Why was he gone for so long? Who took him awa—

Straining under her thoughts, M'gann hazily flickered back into view, drifting down to rest on her knees on the damp jungle floor.

 _"Ananab tilps dnoces!"_ Zatanna shouted, waving her arm in a firm, jerking motion. Immediately the monkey-biosoldiers froze in the air, screeching and howling with barred teeth. She turned towards M'gann, frowning at her teammate's stunned reaction.

"Meg…?"

"M'gann!" Conner sprung towards her, reaching her side first. "Are you okay?" A hesitant hand hovered over her shoulder before he dropped it. With their enemy neutralized, Kaldur and Zatanna strode towards them, brows similarly furrowed.

"Miss Martian, what happened?"

Her slender fingers curled in on themselves as she kneaded the dirt with her fists, almost as if trying to find a tangible grip. "It…it was Wally. He said—he said he found Robin… _Dick.._." She jerked her head up, her wide eyes bright and shining. "He's alive."

* * *

 **Now the story can begin! We got out bird back!**

Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think!


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note:** Next chapter, as promised! Thank you to everyone for the support!

Side Note: There's not enough room for two flash frozen sidekicks in the story. I'm too lazy to try to sort out the whole clone!Roy/frozen!Roy arc, so I'm just going to do some magic handwaving and keep one Roy in this story. I guess it'd technically be the season one clone!Roy in terms of personality/role? Basically, I'm kicking Arsenal out of this story. Sorry bud.

* * *

After waiting for ten years to find their little bird, Kaldur thought that a few more hours would be manageable. He would have laughed at how wrong he was if his stomach didn't lurch each time a shadow fell across the gap between the door and floor. Kaldur frowned at his hands, poking at the ink marking the taunt skin along his knuckles. It had been a while since he had last felt this anxious, but then again, this wasn't the way missions usually ended.

He glanced to the side, catching a glimpse of a scowling Conner, arms crossed as he leaned against a nearby doorframe. Conner had stayed in the same position since they all pooled into the new tower's living room, waiting to hear Robin's prognosis.

Kaldur couldn't tell if Conner was trying to concentrate—maybe straining to hear something they couldn't—or trying to block the sounds and thoughts from his mind. His blank, distant gaze gave nothing away. A few feet away, M'gann blinked rapidly, clasping Artemis's and Zatanna's hands with pale green knuckles.

 _We're all trying to hold it together._

Wally made his opinion of the waiting perfectly clear, which earned him a collective banishment to the far side of the room where he could speed-pace in peace. He had to stay in motion—couldn't stop. He hated the slow _drag_ of each second that ticked by.

Kaldur's pursed lips tightened. For one so used to speed, being powerless to do nothing but wait must have been killing Wally. Very, _very_ slowly, which was the worst kind of death.

Kaldur certainly didn't envy him. Waiting in normal time was torture enough.

Other than the sound of the faint _swish swish_ of rubbing fabric and soft, hurried footsteps, the room was silent. Connor's gaze flickered and Kaldur rose to his feet reflexively. The others quickly followed their leader's example.

Wally had nearly paced a hole in the floor before the door finally opened. He zipped to the entrance, practically vibrating as he waited for any news.

Ray Palmer rubbed at his eyes and shook his head, tearing his gaze from Wally's blurred form.

"I don't know if you're the one doing that or if I'm just seeing double."

Artemis looped her fingers through Wally's hands. The stability of the gesture soothed his jittering body and he stilled with a deep exhale.

"Dr. Palmer, how is he?"

He offered them a weak smile before shrugging lightly. "You realize I'm not that kind of doctor, right? My specialty is molecular physics, not medicine."

"But—"

Palmer held up a hand, cutting off M'gann's objection. "But Red Tornado and I both seem to agree that he's stable now." A collective sigh rippled through the younger heroes.

"My main concern was how his tissues and cells would react to the…sudden revival from the cryochamber."

Wally swallowed. If he had worsened his best friend's condition by being too rash, he would never forgive himself, even if the chain of events had been an accident. Moments after pulling Dick from the cryochamber, he had realized how close to the brink they still were. He had never seen a sweeter sight than Megan's Bioship touching down a few feet from where he emerged from the tunnels. His arms had still been clasped behind Dick as he supported him in a piggyback hold.

 _Just like old times._

"That's why we wanted your opinion, Ato—err, Dr. Palmer. You're pretty good with the small stuff."

"The fact that he was still alive when you first found him was a promising sign. In cases where the victim has been cryogenically preserved, special caution should be taken to prevent damage to the cells when the freezing occurs." He paused, searching for an appropriate explanation. "Essentially, so ice crystals in the blood or cells don't form." Palmer frowned, his brow furrowing. "Usually the blood is replaced with some other fluid, but after taking a sample from Robin, it seemed that his blood was…well, still is blood. Nothing out of the ordinary, other than a few deactivated nanomites."

"Nanomites?"

"Probably from Batman," Wally answered automatically, dispassionately. "For tracking."

Palmer nodded. "Whatever they injected into Robin to minimize cellular damage and prepare him for the freezing procedure disrupted the nanomite signal. The compound was fast acting enough to boil out of his system or decay once Kid—sorry, Wally—accidentally started the revival process."

Palmer rubbed his chin, deep in thought. "As I said, I'm not very familiar with this line of work, but even I can see that it's years ahead of modern medicine. I don't know of many cases where a cryogenic patient has been successfully revived. For it to have been this advanced ten years ago, not needing any scientists to facilitate the procedure…"

The young heroes exchanged dark looks. They knew of at least one medical miracle, a frustrating cold case and the revived wife of a former scientist. They had gotten no closer to solving Robin's disappearance then, but the failed chance to track down Mister Freeze before he vanished again had haunted them for months.

The connection wasn't clear until now. Robin must have been Freeze's prototype for a more demanding case.

(It could have been any one of them, right?)

"In any case, I suggest constant observation for the next few days or weeks to ensure that there aren't any other side effects. His body has been under a lot of stress for these last few hours. No need to put him through anymore."

* * *

Creating the observation schedule nearly tore them apart again. Wally aggressively demanded to be there when Dick woke up, but Kaldur talked him down.

"Remember what Professor Palmer said," he began slowly, forcing eye contact with Wally's frustrated scowl. "I realize that you need to see him, but when he wakes he will likely be confused or frightened."

"Exactly! That's why I need to be there! I'm his best friend!"

Kaldur tilted his head, choosing his next words wisely. "His best friend who is now ten years older. We are aware of what happened, but he isn't yet. What will he think when everyone suddenly looks older?"

"You'd understand this better than anyone else, Wally," Zatanna added in a low voice.

Wally's shoulder's slumped. He remembered how draining it had been when he returned from being imprisoned in the speed force. It had only been a few months of separation, but it still took a while to feel comfortable back in his own life.

"Yeah, yeah. I get what you're saying. I won't do anything till he knows." Artemis's grip tightened and he relented with a sigh. "But the moment he knows what's up, I'm going in there. Don't even _try_ to stop me."

"I doubt we could." With a nod, Kaldur turned towards M'gann and Conner. "Miss Martian, Superboy," his voice automatically slipped into a mission briefing tone as he continued to grapple with the strange situation. With their team complete again, he couldn't help but feel nostalgic. "Will you be comfortable with being the ones who explain things to Robin?"

Conner grunted while Megan furiously pumped her head once, twice. A cascade of auburn hair tumbled from behind her ears as her cheeks grew fuller. As they slipped through the medbay door, Wally strained to catch a glimpse of Dick, sleeping peacefully on the nearest bed.

It was enough for now, he had to remind himself. _Just a little more waiting._

* * *

He didn't stir when they entered. Megan drifted towards the side of the bed, keeping her gaze trained on Robin's peaceful face, dark eyelashes fluttering as his chest rose and fell. Megan lightly traced the back of her hand against his cheek.

When Wally first called them, when they first touched down in Central City, Robin had been so cold and pale. She suppressed the urge to gather him into her arms, so tight that he would never be taken away again.

 _When he wakes up, there'll be plenty of time for that._

"He sounds better," Conner spoke up from the other side of the bed. "When we first saw him, his heartbeat was so faint. I didn't think—" he paused and fell silent, keeping his admission to himself.

"I still can't believe it," Megan murmured after another few moments of silence. "I can't believe he's finally with us again."

"Me either." Conner glanced to the side, gaze catching on Robin's discarded utility belt and mask. "I thought he died."

Megan tugged the glove from Robin's hand, wincing at the jarring sound of ripping Velcro as she pulled on the straps. She laced her fingers through his and squeezed as tightly as she could without fear of disturbing him.

"I couldn't give up hope. I thought he would come back to us someday, even if we stopped looking. He was so smart. If anyone could have figured it out, he would have."

Conner's frown deepened at her optimistic confession. He never considered that Robin was missing, kept away from the team against his will.

(It was fitting that Wally was the one who found Robin. Wally and Megan never gave up on their missing teammate. He, on the other hand, had been looking for the wrong thing: a body.)

Taking advantage of Megan's distracted stare, he studied her from across the bed, unafraid of being caught. He eagerly absorbed every freckle, every detail of how she was when they first met. It had been years since he had last seen her like that. He didn't think he was the nostalgic type, but her altered appearance and Robin's return made his gut twist.

 _Speaking of the old days…_

"The way you changed—it isn't quite right."

Megan jerked her head up and blinked at him. "What?"

"It… A few of the details are wrong." She stared at him, waiting for him to continue. "It isn't a big deal, but your collar had a yellow button here." His gestured towards the base of his throat. "And your gloves were blue, not white."

She blinked and slowly the colors in her uniform shifted. He smiled faintly at the familiarity, but when her expression remained impassive, he felt his smile slip.

"You remembered that after all these years?"

Conner shrugged and glanced away, trying to shift away from the intensity of her unreadable gaze. Maybe it was stupid to bring it up after all.

"Dick's a smart kid. He would have noticed something."

Even after he broke their stare, she continued to eye him curiously, brow furrowing as she opened her mouth to say more. Robin stirred with a soft moan and her attention snapped back to him.

"Robin? Can you hear me?" Although her voice had been steady a few moments ago, it wavered on Robin's name. She realized she should probably call him by his real name, but the chance to say _Robin_ again was too hard to resist. She wanted to repeat his name again and again to make up for the time stolen away from her.

Dick's forehead scrunched as he turned his head listlessly. His chest rose and fell a few times before he pried open his eyes. Conner felt himself drawn a step forward. It had been such a long time since he had seen those eyes.

Dick tried to say something, but his voice cracked, garbling the words beyond comprehension. He winced and coughed—a rattling, dry sound—before trying again. He tried sitting up.

"M-Megan? Conner?" M'gann reflexively reached for his shoulder and pushed him back towards the bed. Conner took another hesitant step forward and then two steps back to where he was before.

"How do you feel?"

"Awful… Definitely more _dis_ combobulated than combobulated." Dick grimaced, rubbing a hand down his face. He froze when his fingers brushed skin instead of his mask. He jerked his head to the side, searching for the rest of his uniform or an idea of where they were. "But where are we? This isn't Mount Justice."

Conner and M'gann exchanged surprised glances. Buttons and gloves—of everything they were mindful to hide, how could they have forgotten about the destruction of their former home? It would be too much to explain the "move" to the new base in Manhattan, so M'gann settled for a blanket response.

"We're somewhere safe, don't worry. And the others are just beyond the door."

"The others?" Dick pulled himself into a more comfortable recline.

"Wally, Artemis, Kaldur, Zatanna. All of the other, uh, sidekicks."

Dick grinned, apparently pleased with the answer. "So they're all okay then?" He reached for his utility belt, pulling it into his lap. He began fidgeting with the various gadgets, smiling as he took stock of his stores, just as he did after each successful mission.

Conner bobbed his head once and Megan smiled thinly. "We're all fine now."

"That's good then that no one was hurt after… after…" He hesitated, fingers falling still as he concentrated on remembering their last mission. He looked up from his belt, lips pursed. "What happened? I must have been hit pretty hard or something." He rubbed the back of his head and gave a weak chuckle. "I feel like I've been sleeping forever."

Neither Megan nor Conner cracked a smile at his attempt at a joke.

"What _do_ you remember?"

Dick frowned, tapping the bottom of his chin. "Let's see… I remember we were on some sort of mission. It was pretty hot and…" Dick bolted upright, dislodging Megan's grip on his shoulder. "Mr. Freeze! It was him! He shot Artemis and was going to get awa—" He moved to get out of bed, but Megan pushed him back.

"Artemis is fine," M'gann repeated, forcing another smile. "Kaldur and Wally were able to help her before any permanent damage happened."

"Oh," Dick shifted on the bed, glancing from Conner to M'gann, eyeing their strained expression. "If everyone's fine then, I guess he got away. That's why you look so tense, right?"

"Was Artemis the last thing you remember from the mission?"

Dick's brow furrowed as he grappled with the hazy memories. "No… I went after him, I think. But that's the last thing I can remember. He must have knocked me out or something. I guess you found me and brought me back to…wherever here is?"

M'gann exchanged glances with Conner before reaching again for Dick's hand. "It took us a long time to find you, Robin. Mr. Freeze took you away before we could stop him."

"Huh?" Dick wasn't quite following, but his friends' expressions were starting to unnerve him. "What do you mean 'for a long time'? I just woke up and I don't remember _any_ of what you're talking about. It must not have been _that_ long. I mean, you guys look the same. I _feel_ the same." His voice rose with each justification.

"Robin," Megan hesitated before beginning again. "Dick, you were gone for a long time," she repeated. "A _long_ time. We didn't want you to be surprised when you saw the others." Dick eyed her out of the corner of his eyes and crossed his arms, refusing to fall for the trick. He was still waiting for Wally to jump out from behind a curtain. When it didn't happen, his steely expression flickered for the first time during their conversation.

"You know better than anyone else the kind of work that Mr. Freeze specialized in." He nodded reflexively at Megan's words. "Like how he tried to keep his wife alive for years, frozen in some sort of stasis."

"Yeah, but what does that have to do wi—"

"Wally found you in a cryogenic pod a few hours ago." Conner decided there was no point in mincing words anymore. Dick clearly understood the gravity of the situation now. He looked as pale as he had when Wally pulled him from the cryogenic pod.

"I'm so sorry we couldn't stop him!" M'gann took a hiccupy breath before engulfing Dick in a tight hug. Stunned, he blinked twice before Conner's words fully struck him.

"W-wait! How long was I mi—" Dick's eyes widened and he struggled out of her grip. "What about Br—Batman! Where's Batman? Is he ok—"

Conner and Megan exchanged glances again and Dick's thrashing grew more desperate when they didn't answer immediately. "I have to go see him!"

"Robin! Batman is fine! He's okay! You have to calm down before you hurt yourself!" Dick fell still, his chest heaving from the effort of trying to escape.

(He felt like he was going to suffocate, even though Megan had let go of him.)

 _"When was anyone going to tell me he's still alive?!"_

The sounds of shattering glass and shouting reverberated from behind the door. Megan froze and swung her gaze towards the door. Conner looked less startled, brow wrinkled as he strained to hear the reason for the commotion.

Dick took their momentary shock as a chance to escape. He ducked underneath Megan's limply outstretched arms and leapt towards the door.

"Robin! Wait!" M'gann shouted for him to come back, but she was too startled to use anything but her voice to try to keep him in the room. Dick jerked the door open before Conner could block the exit.

"Rob…in?"

* * *

"It's been fifteen minutes already. Do you think he's awake now?"

No one knew how to answer the question. No one knew for sure.

"It may be several more hours before he wakes up," Kaldur hazarded after a lengthy pause. "It may take a while for his body to recover." Soon after Professor Palmer's exit, he realized that Robin waking up wasn't a guarantee. He was afraid of voicing this idea out loud, but judging from some of the other frowns around the room, he wasn't alone in thinking it. _Ifs_ and conditionals were not things he wanted to dwell on at the current moment.

"What happens once he wakes up? Once he knows that ten years has passed?" Zatanna finally broached the topic that they had all been avoiding. "We can't all go back to being teenagers again. Things have changed."

Wally frowned but didn't argue. Even though his superpowers had been instrumental in finding their lost teammate, he couldn't imagine jumping back into the superhero game and donning the red tights again. Their team— _the_ team—was never coming back.

At the moment though? He couldn't care less about going back to the way things were. His best friend was still alive after ten years and that was all that mattered.

"We never told the League," Artemis realized, deciding to change the subject again.

Zatanna blinked, considering the various events leading up to Robin's rescue. Although it had only been a few hours, it felt like an eternity had passed since the "Titans" were fighting robotic monkeys.

"I guess we never had the chance to? Garfield was the one who got the message at the Watchtower. Who _knows_ what he did with that information."

"The League can be informed when they return from Mars. There's someone else who needs to be contacted now though."

The others nodded with downcast eyes at Kaldur's statement. They had been so overjoyed, so _over_ whelmed, by finding their missing teammate alive that they forgot to inform the one person who possessed an even stronger connection to Robin.

Wally, however, was not in favor of Kaldur's suggestion. "Why do _we_ have to tell _him?_ He was apparently done with all of us the moment Dick disappeared. Why does _Batman_ matter now?"

"Robin was his partner, after all. He needs to know he's still alive. And you know he thought of Dick like a son."

" _Right._ Because when your first kid goes missing, it's no big deal to go pick up ano—"

 _"Wally!"_

"Don't 'Wally' me!" He ran a hand through his hair, huffing in frustration. "He _replaced_ Dick. How much did he really care about his partner, huh? He should have been searching for him, but instead he goes out and gets a new Robin? Not even just one—Gotham has had _several_ since then!" Wally threw his hands up in the air, unsure if Batman was really the one he was frustrated at.

Kaldur's eyes flicked towards the closed door. "You should keep your voice down, especially when saying things like that. He might hear you."

Wally clicked his tongue and shook his head, but his shoulders relaxed nonetheless. "I'm just saying that if _he_ knows Dick is still alive, then he's going to yank him right back into the same damn crusade that got him into this mess to begin with."

"You don't know that for sure," Zatanna countered, tone wavering with uncertainty.

"I think Wally might be right." Several pairs of eyes shifted to Artemis, who rubbed the back of her neck with a halfhearted sigh. "He's not the same guy who used to send us on missions all those years ago. There's something wrong with him. Something wrong with Gotham."

She had watched Gotham, her _home,_ deteriorate in the years following Dick's disappearance. The city had crumbled, just like the man who had sworn to protect it.

The others fell silent.

Kaldur sighed, feeling overwhelmed with the same guilt and doubt he felt ten years ago. "We didn't tell Batman until after Robin had been missing for several hours." Wally opened his mouth before closing it with a nod. "I deeply regret not contacting Batman sooner. I thought we could handle it as a team. But by the time we told him, it was too late."

"I won't make the same mistake again," Kaldur finished with a thick swallow. "We need to tell Batman."

Artemis frowned, her gaze drifting to the side. "How though? He refuses to speak to anyone in the League anymore. Even Ollie says he ignores any attempt at communication from Star Labs unless it's strictly business."

"We'll just have to contact him ourselves then. But we should probably warn Dick first about his new partn—"

A furious pounding at the door caused Zatanna to break off. The door exploded open, the guest bursting through with a furious snarl. The seated superheroes responded by jumping to their feet. Kaldur clipped a glass with his elbow, causing it to shatter upon impact with the floor tile.

Artemis eyed their new visitor warily. "Long time no see, Roy."

Zatanna flicked an eyebrow upwards. "The door wasn't locked, you know. Just knock the next time you're in the neighborhood."

"Cut the crap, Zee. You know why I'm here. Is it true?"

A pause, then:

"Wally found him a few hours ago. Megan and Conner are in the room now, but we don't know if he—"

"So, when was anyone going to tell _me_ he's still alive?!" Roy jerked a thumb in Artemis's direction. "I only knew about it because your sister told me!"

Artemis hoisted an eyebrow and crossed her arms. "Oh, so you finally picked up the phone when she called?"

 _How did Jade find out this fast?_

" _Not_ in the mood. Dick's alive and I want to see him."

"Get in line, Roy. No one sees him until Meg and Conner explain—" Wally turned his head at the sound of Megan's scream. The door to the medbay flew open, greeting them all with Dick's wide-eyed stare. He sucked in a deep breath, knuckles pale as they clenched the doorframe.

"Rob…in?"

Dick jerked his head from person to person. They were older, so much older. His knees trembled, but he forced himself to stay upright. Kaldur, Artemis, Zatanna, Roy. _Wally._ All his friends, old and grown without him. He thought he had braced himself after Connor and Megan's explanation, but it felt like his brain was short circuiting again.

 _Maybe a year, at most three. Not_ this _._

Never _this._

"Hey…buddy…" Wally managed to react first, offering a watery smile.

 _How…how long was I asleep for?!_

"I—I need to be alone for a moment," Dick stammered before darting towards the closest open door. He barricaded himself into the tight closet before anyone else could pull him back.

Kaldur sighed, gaze drifting towards the shattered glass on the tile floor.

What had Professor Palmer said about minimizing stress?

* * *

They decided to give Robin thirty minutes to cope before they tried talking to him again. As the final second ticked over, Wally was at the door, knocking softly.

"Hey, Dick. You ready to come out? We can talk about this more." He knocked again, a bit more forcefully. "Hey! Are you there?" Ten thousand "worst case scenarios" flooded through his brain in a millisecond, each one growing progressively worse. Conner's brow furrowed, tightening the knot in Wally's gut.

He shot Kaldur an unreadable side glance. "I don't know if he's brooding or if something's wrong. It's too quiet."

"M'gann, can you check on him…?" Kaldur broke off uncertainly as Conner wrenched the door back off its hinges.

"That works too," Zatanna supplied, stepping through the threshold. She wrinkled her nose at the darkness and murmured a soft word. A small ball of white light swelled from her palm, bathing the tiny room in light. A ventilation grate laid at their feet, the screws discarded a few feet away.

"Oh no…"

"He's probably headed towards Gotham."

Wally shoved up his sleeves and pushed back his bangs. "I'll be right back."

Artemis caught his arm. "Maybe we should let him go. He needs some time alone with his family too. The secret's out already, so he knows time has passed by."

A sly grin crept across her face. "Besides, I have some friends down there who can keep an eye on him."

* * *

 **Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think!**

It's reunion time, baby! We're goin' to Gotham.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note:** As promised, we're finally in Gotham! Hope you enjoy!

* * *

When he was moving, scuffing his knees as he clambered through the ventilation system, he was too busy to think about the world he woke to. It was only when he stopped to press his mask back on did the thoughts threaten to overwhelm him. He felt a little guilty running away from his friends, but he _had_ to go back to Gotham, to Bruce and Alfred. Even though it only felt like a few hours since he last saw them, the urge to go _home_ was pulling him ever faster, ever more reckless, back to Gotham City.

Dick had no idea where he was at first. Fortunately, bypassing the front door security had been easy enough. He allowed himself his first genuine smile since waking up. The rest of the world might have passed him by, but it seemed like his team's tech hadn't.

 _Surprised Bruce wouldn't have given them something harder to crack._

With a satisfied, breathy laugh, he slipped out of a backdoor. He only paused a second to marvel at the strange architecture of where his friends now stayed.

 _It's a bit more…conspicuous than Mount Justice. I guess they outgrew being sidekicks._

He realized belatedly he never did get a proper answer on how long he had been asleep. Finding out would be easy enough—he could look at any newspaper heading or reboot the computer on his wrist, but he wasn't sure he wanted to be spoiled just yet. He skirted around the base of the building, keeping himself close to the sides and hidden in the T-shaped shadow. He frowned at the exposed city skyline as he rounded one of the corners, spreading out in front of him for miles upon miles. It was a familiar city. If the smell had been stronger, he would have guessed he was already back in Gotham.

 _This must be New York City then. I remember coming here a few times for missions with Batman. Gotham isn't that far then._

"Borrowing" a nearby motorbike with the full intention of asking Bruce to refund the unwitting donor, Dick set off towards Gotham, towards his home. He kept to the less populated side roads, imagining Alfred's cookies with each backwoods turn he took.

* * *

Halfway through his trip, he realized his uniform would attract more attention than he desired, especially if he had been missing for many years. The smart thing would have been changing and returning to Gotham after a solid night's sleep, but Dick couldn't stomach the thought of sleeping any more.

Night had fallen by the time he reached the Gotham City limits, which couldn't have made for a better opportunity. Now, under the cover of night, another costumed vigilante was less out of place in Gotham than a Starbucks.

He watched as the sign for the turnoff to Wayne Manor approached and then shrunk in his rearview mirror. Still, he kept riding towards the main city, speeding over one of the bridges.

 _It'll be fine._ As much as he wanted to go home and see Alfie and Bruce, he was afraid of another painful shock like the one with his friends earlier. _I think I need to acclimate first before I officially go home._

 _Speaking of acclimating..._

He wrinkled his nose as the trademark Gotham smell of metal and overall _filth_ assaulted his nostrils and made his eyes water. He never remembered the smell being this pungent.

 _Eh, maybe my nose is more sensitive after waking up._

He slowed the bike as the streets grew narrower and more densely populated. Car horns honked as people groaned and grunted through their night commute. He swung his head back and forth, taking in the stained walls and dilapidated buildings.

 _Didn't this use to be West Village? I thought Uptown was nicer than this?_

He couldn't stop and stare for long; he soon became the next victim of commuter rage, nearly being knocked off the road by impatient drivers behind him. Dick turned his attentions back on the road with a shake of the head.

 _Maybe I have my bearings off?_ He knew that wasn't it. In his mind, he had been in Uptown just a few days ago, catching a movie with Barbara. _He_ wasn't the one who had changed. Another horn blared in his periphery, tearing him from his thoughts again.

 _I might want to take this_ acclimating _off-road._ He pulled off into the nearest alleyway and tugged off his helmet, inhaling a deep breath of the smoke and steel. He memorized the motorcycle's plates for Bruce's annual "civilian write off" and mentally thanked the owner before abandoning it. Sticking close to the shadows, he moved on quiet feet through the narrow lanes running parallel to the main roads. Although he was all for the idea of venting his frustrations by beating up the next mugger who ran by him, he wasn't sure how well his body could keep up with the physical strain. Already he felt his muscles trembling from his brief excursion through the alleyway.

As he wove in and out of the streets, his once familiar landmarks were marred or missing entirely. Instead of feeling a sense of nostalgia wash over him as he had hoped for, he felt the annoying prickle of déjà vu in the back of his mind as he rounded each corner. He recognized everything just enough to be frustrated, but not well enough to know where he was.

 _This is pointless. I need to be on higher ground._ He hoisted a brow at the sight of a sturdy metal overhanging. _That's more like it._ He fished his grappling gun from his pocket, aimed, and shot.

Halfway up his ascent, the hairs on the back of his neck crackled. He glanced up before a swell of sharp pain and darkness overtook him.

* * *

"This is _my_ roof. I've been staking out DiMaggio for nearly a _week_ now."

"I don't see your _name_ on it, Drake."

Tim Drake, former Robin and current Red Robin, puffed out his cheeks in suppressed exasperation. He knew better than to sass back a thirteen-year-old. He had tried before, with utterly humiliating and painful consequences.

"What are you doing here then?"

"Birdwatching."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

A wicked smile flitted across the current Robin's lips. The white slits in his domino mask were concealed by the twin lenses of a pair of night vision binoculars. Despite himself, Tim's curiosity was piqued, but like hell was he going to ask for a turn with the binoculars. Instead, Tim settled for adjusting the focus on the built-in lenses on his mask. It wasn't perfect, but he could see a flash of red and gold running down the alleyway below them.

"Is that a—"

"Yes, that's a Robin costume he's wearing. Shoddy workmanship at that—looks nothing like the _real_ uniform. Wouldn't even place at a cos-display contest."

"First, it's _cosplay_. Second, was that supposed to be a joke?"

Damian didn't bother tearing his gaze away from his quarry to roll his eyes at Tim, incidentally one of his favorite hobbies. _He must be more interested in this kid than he lets on. I wonder how long he's been following this copycat._

 _"Yo, Red! Quit chatting it up with the bird brat and get back to watching DiMaggio."_

Tim jumped, startled by the voice in his ear. Damian lowered the binoculars, his grin dropping into an unimpressed sneer.

 _"_ Sorry, Hood. Heading over there now. It's just—" Tim hesitated, glancing back towards the alleyway where he had last seen the Robin copycat. The kid had narrowly avoided running into a theft trap, jumping into another corner at the last second.

"I thought Duke told the others to lay off with the Robin costumes for a while."

 _"What? He did."_

"Well, there's another Robin here who didn't get the message."

 _"Shit. Teenager?"_

Damian had gone back to following the Robin copycat. "He's young," he scoffed. "Can't be more than fourteen. Obviously an overexcited amateur."

Tim repeated the message, deciding not to mention that's roughly how old their current Robin was. He heard a rattling sigh on the opposite end before Jason spoke again.

 _"All right. I'm on my way. We can bag DiMaggio another night. B made it clear he doesn't want untrained vigilantes on the street. As much as I hate to admit it, he's right on this one."_

Damian's grin returned, causing the corners of his mouth to twitch up in ways that made Tim shiver. "Tell him there won't be a problem in a few moments. The idiot is trying to use some sort of grapple gun on the electro-ledges. _That'll_ teach him."

Tim tried to wrestle away the binoculars to get a closer look, but Damian swerved, keeping them pressed firmly to his face. He caught a shift of movement as the Robin impersonator raised a right arm with something dark clenched in the fist.

"He doesn't know about them?" Tim echoed, brow scrunching up. He thought _everyone_ knew about them. After all, the Gotham Gazette had run editorials for weeks, advertising the Gotham City Police Department's controversial new attempt to stem the rise of teenage vigilantes and determined pigeons. The shocks weren't enough to kill, but it certainly would cause anyone to think twice about using rooftop transportation. It even forced Bruce to redesign his technology to avoid mild electrocution each time they went out on patrol.

There was a faint crackle and the hairs on the back of Tim's neck stood up. He turned back to the alleyway just in time to see the limp body of the Robin impersonator drop to the ground from several feet up.

"Did you see the way he spasmed?"

In Tim's opinion, Damian was taking _way_ too much pleasure from this. Still, a fall like that couldn't have been good. He turned to chastise Damian when his partner dropped onto the other side of the roof.

"Is he still there?" Jason asked, his voice muffled slightly by his helmet.

Tim ran a hand through his hair, nodding towards the alleyway. "He tried to use an electro-ledge as a grapple point. He went down, but I'm sure he's run off by now."

"I guess that means we're chasing after some kid for the rest of the night? _Great…_ " Jason popped off his helmet, pinching the bridge of his nose with a sigh.

"He hasn't gotten up yet." Damian's voice, which had been a touch gleeful earlier, now seemed a bit subdued. "He hasn't moved."

"Huh?" Tim glanced back over his shoulder, frowning. "What?"

Jason shrugged, less concerned. "Ehh, it's probably the shock keeping him down. I remember the first time I hit one. Not enough to do serious harm, but it hurt like a motherfu—"

Damian's face scrunched up further; Tim thought he looked rather bulldogish. "He's not moving at all."

Tim finally managed to pull the binoculars from Damian's loose grip and swore under his breath. "He's right. I don't see any chest movement. Did the ledge do that?" He lowered the binoculars, lips parted in a frown. "How's that even possible? The current isn't even strong enough to fry a pigeon."

"Someone might want to go check on him then." Both Tim and Jason swung their gazes in Damian's direction.

"Me? Why me?"

"You saw him first."

Damian's upper lip curled. "That doesn't mean I have to be the one to save some stupid kid."

"No, but _that_ does." Jason jabbed a finger at the Robin badge on Damian's chest. Damian swatted his finger away, but rifled through his utility belt, grumbling as he pulled out his modified grappling gun. He dropped off the ledge and reappeared a few feet from the prone Robin's body.

Tim watched him go, arms crossed. "You sure he's the best one for the job?" He winced as Damian initiated a forceful round of chest compressions. "He's going to break a rib... _oof!_ Or all of them."

Jason tutted under his breath and shook his head. "You better go down there, Red. We don't need the grief from B if this kid dies."

Tim nodded and dropped from the ledge, landing by Damian and the Robin copycat. Damian was still pumping furiously with splayed fingers across the unconscious boy's chest.

"Don't you think you're pressing a bit too hard?"

"Padding…on…chest…" His breath came out in controlled spurts. His once slicked-back hair flopped in his face with the effort of his harsh motions. "Thick…uniform…"

"Huh? So much for a shoddy cosplay costume," Tim mused, giving the unconscious boy another once over. "Can you tell what happened?"

"Not sure…but no…pulse."

 _Shit._ "Alright… Get ready to move aside once I get the AED ready." Damian grunted in response, starting a new round of compressions. Tim pulled out a few wires from the computer nestled in his left gauntlet.

"Slide over," he commanded. Damian complied immediately, not even offering a sarcastic quip.

Tim knelt over the still body, glancing up at the boy's slackened lips and the narrow white slits of his domino mask. He slipped a bladed projectile from his sleeve and pulled the collar from the Robin impersonator's throat to prevent cutting his chest as he sawed through the uniform. Tim considered the boy's uniform while he jaggedly ripped through the padding. Damian was right; it obviously wasn't as poorly made as they had thought. It was nearly as protective as Tim's own suit. Each seam and extra layer of padding was expertly tailored.

He swallowed before cutting around the Robin badge over his still chest. There was something familiar about it, almost nostalgic.

 _Whoever he is—we can worry about that once he's breathing again._

Tim shook his head and tossed the scrap of uniform to the side. He attached the wires to the boy's chest and along his side, noting with surprise how firm the muscles seemed to be. He shifted backwards and away from the boy, fingers flying over his computer as it searched for an electrical rhythm in the still body.

 _God, I hope there aren't any underlying problems._ Tim knew something must have caused such a violent reaction to the electro-ledge, but he _really_ wasn't interested in amateur heart surgery at the moment.

His computer gave a soft _ping_ and the boy's body twitched in response to the electric pulse coursing through his chest. A faint pause, then a rattling breath came from the unconscious boy. His chest rose and fell fitfully, but it was a good sign, nonetheless. Damian hovered over Tim's shoulder, staring at the glowing lines bouncing up and down on the screen.

Tim pressed two gloved fingers against the hollow of the boy's neck. The pulse thudded sluggishly, but it was present. He was a bit surprised how quickly the situation seemed to resolve itself. Whoever this kid was, his body was tougher than it looked.

"He's breathing steady and his pulse is weak…but it's getting stronger. Looks like the ledge just overwhelmed his system or something." Tim sat back on his heels, exhaling in relief. "We need to get him to a hospital though. Who knows what caused him to pass out like that."

"Nice going, Red." Jason's voice sounded behind them. "Alright, we'll pin a little note on his cape—y'know, don't try this at home—and drop him off at Gotham General." He bent down and picked up the discarded scrap. His gaze darted back to the unconscious boy's face and he swallowed thickly.

"Damn…"

Damian rooted through the kid's pockets, grumbling about delivering a message personally. He moved onto the utility belt, knocked askew by the dramatic events. He shoved his hands in the thick pockets, dumping out tiny capsules and digging deeper. He yanked his fingers back, cursing as he inspected a hole in his gloves before gingerly pulling out a few bladed discs.

"Are those _birdarangs?"_ Tim blinked down at the strange bounty. "I haven't seen anything like that in years!" He reached for one and fumbled with the spring mechanism.

Damian wrinkled his nose. He recognized the items, certainly, but only from a dusty display case. He had thought his father foolishly sentimental for keeping such outdated items around.

"Holy—these aren't some really good copies. They're the real deal!" Tim continued, flipping it over and prodding at the blades.

"Why would _he_ have them?" Damian reached for the unconscious boy's domino mask. "Who is he?"

"It's him."

"Huh?"

"What are you talking about?"

Jason's voice came out hushed, almost strangled. Both Robins turned towards their elder brother with openmouthed frowns and furrowed brows.

"It's him—the first Robin. Richard Grayson."

* * *

Damian had put up an aggressive argument, claiming that the first Robin was dead and this was an imposter. Tim had countered, equally impassioned, that whatever they did with him, he still needed medical attention.

Jason ultimately broke the stalemate with a firm slash of the hand, siding with Tim. Damian wrinkled his nose in frustration, but suppressed any further comments. Although he didn't trust Drake _not_ to be an overly emotional idiot, he knew Todd would be a bit more cautious in whatever course of action they took with the imposter.

Now, they were back in the Batcave with the imposter resting on the medbay table, wires reattached to his chest. Jason had disappeared a few moments earlier, muttering into a cellphone. Damian watched the imposter with arms crossed, a blade tucked between his fingers just in case.

"You can relax, Damian. He's _sleeping_."

" _Someone_ needs to be prepared."

"Err, sure then."

Tim glanced over his shoulder before turning back to the Batcave computer. His fingers flew over the keys as he reviewed the original Robin's casefiles. All of them, one time or another, had peaked through them, but only when Bruce was away. Out of courtesy.

He pulled up a recent photo of Dick Grayson. A perfect match.

"Jason's right—it _has_ to be him. I just don't understand _how…_ It's been ten years and it looks like he hasn't aged a day."

 _Literally. He looks the same as he did in his last known photograph. Down to the length of his hair._

(Tim had even checked. It sometimes unnerved him how meticulous Bruce could be when it came to details.)

The boy on the table shifted and groaned slightly. Tim turned in his chair, one eyebrow hoisted, but he didn't react more than that.

" _Tt_." Damian gritted his teeth, adding another blade to his finger arsenal. Whoever this imposter was, he was damn good or dedicated, one of the two. He didn't need Drake dropping his guard as well.

The boy slowly opened his eyes and moved his head sluggishly, coming face-to-face with a leering Damian Wayne. He started and scrambled backwards into a sitting position, swinging his head wildly from side to side.

 _"Who are you?"_

* * *

It all felt like one, long nightmare. The sweltering heat of the August sun, dissipating with the chill of Mr. Freeze's icy chuckles. He turned his head to the side and groaned.

Waking up. Everyone older. Gotham….so strange. Sharp pain.

He would open his eyes and everything would be gone. Such a strange dream.

Dick pried his eyes open, meeting the narrowed glare of a dark-haired boy with knives tucked between his fingers. His feet kicked out and his fingers clenched the soft blankets as he pulled himself upwards and away from the boy.

 _"Who are you?"_ The boy seethed, looking angrier than Dick thought anybody had the right to, especially when, for all intents and purposes, they were strangers to each other.

He opened his mouth before closing it, jerking his head back and forth. He was in the Batcave, he was sure of it. Or, at least, something that used to be his Batcave. The equipment was newer, shinier, and there were new vehicles and display cases everywhere.

But it was the same cave. He glanced up, catching a glimpse of the dark little corner only he could shimmy into whenever they had come back from a bad mission, whenever he needed some time alone. He thought about leaping towards it, hiding away until Bruce or Alfred came back, but the boy in front of him was too close and too eager to keep him on the cot.

 _"Who are you?"_ He repeated, lips curling up in a sneer.

"Relax, Damian. He's probably terrified." Another voice, this one a bit gentler, sounded behind Dick. He swung his head, noticing that an older teenager was watching him from the Batcave computer. He glanced from boy to teen, finally taking note of their outfits. They looked like living sketches from his ten-year-old costume design book.

 _Robins? Two of them?_

"Don't use civilian names in front of him," the younger boy grumbled. _Damian,_ Dick corrected himself. The name seemed to fit. "He may be an imposter. He's not to be trusted."

"You can let your guard down. At least, for now." Another voice came from above. Dick strained his eyes to see another young man coming down the stairs. "Just got off the phone with Artemis. She explained everything." He gripped a red motorcycle helmet under his arm and pushed his dark hair back with a gusty sigh.

"It's him."

Dick's head swirled as he tried to keep track of the three new faces. Damian, computer-guy, and motorcycle-helmet-guy who was also friends with Artemis. Did they all work with Bruce?

 _They have to if they're in the Cave._

His ears caught onto the sound of cautious steps and the rattle of porcelain. He perked up. They were sounds that accompanied each successful mission.

"Master Timothy said we had a visitor—"

Dick's heart swelled painfully and his eyes stung at the voice. It was a little softer, a little hoarser, but it was one he knew nonetheless.

"Alfred!" Dick jumped off the table, ripping the wires from his chest. He didn't know why they were on him and his ribs burned with the movement. Damian tensed at Dick's sudden action, but he couldn't stop. He had to get up the stairs, even if it was the last thing he did.

Alfred dropped the tray of sandwiches at the sight of Dick. He looked older, his once dark hair now streaked with silver. The perpetual wrinkle along his brow seemed deeper, longer. It slackened with Alfred's expression of shock.

"Ma—Master Richard? H-how is this-? Is it really yo—"

Dick sidestepped over the discarded sandwiches and spilled drinks, bodily throwing himself into Alfred's arms. He was desperate for a familiar face in this nightmare. Alfred remained frozen for a moment, blinking incomprehensively, before thawing and returning the embrace.

The man beside Alfred glanced away from the private reunion and moved further down the stairs. "We have to call B."

Damian scowled and sheathed his blades. The other teen by the computer smiled before turning back to his work. Dick buried his face in Alfred's chest.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think!**

The next chapter will be posted in two weeks. I gotta wrap up some things for the end of this semester before I can update again. Rip me.

(also, not a medical doctor - i'm in school to be the other kind of doctor - so apologies if the medical bits aren't 100% accurate. i've sat through enough basic aid training sessions to make my eyes glaze over, but that doesn't mean i'm an expert by any means)


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note:** I'm baaaack! Thanks again for all your support. Hope you enjoy!

Have fun searching for some of those Easter Eggs I've scrambled into this 'lil self-indulgent fic.

* * *

"Mmmhmm. Okay. That's good." Artemis glanced over at Wally and gave him a reassuring smile. "Thanks, Jason. Yeah, tell Bizarro I said hello." She rolled her eyes and Wally could hear faint chuckles on the opposite line. "You _know_ what I meant. Tell him I said goodbye then. Uh huh. _Bye_ , Jason."

She hung up and turned back to Wally.

"Jason?"

"Yeah, Jason Todd. Back from my Outlaw days," she added with a tip of the head.

Wally nodded faintly. He had only met the Red Hood a few times. Artemis had shared a few stories from her brief stint as an "Outlaw", but Wally tended to avoid asking about _that_ time if he could help it. The time that had coincided with his disappearance in the speed force, where she had searched for answers while he raced towards a way out.

"So, what'd he say?"

"That Dick's resting safely in the Batcave."

Wally exhaled, his shoulders slumping. It had taken most of his willpower not to dart after his best friend the moment they discovered he was missing.

"He must have gone straight there. There was nothing to be worried about."

"Not quite." Artemis glanced to the side, lips thin. "They picked him off from the street. He wanted to make sure that he was the real deal and to find out—and I quote—'what the hell was going on.' Jason said they found Dick underneath an electro-ledge. Apparently, he wasn't breathing."

"A wha—wait, _what?!_ "

She held her hands up, fingers splayed. "Relax, Wally. He's okay now. The other Robins found him after he tried to latch onto an electrified ledge. They responded quickly, Jason said. He was only down for a minute or so."

Wally felt his heart clench. The tightness only intensified when he realized Dick would have felt something similar.

"So, you're telling me Dick _died_?"

 _Again?_

"Jason doesn't seem to think it was anything that dramatic. His body was already weak from the cryochamber. The spark from the electro-ledge must have overwhelmed his heart."

Wally dragged his hands down his face. "I don't believe this. Thawed and then electrocuted? That _can't_ be good for his system."

Artemis couldn't argue. She quietly reviewed the rest of her conversation with Jason before tucking it away. She didn't need to worry Wally anymore. He didn't need to know how lucky Dick had been that the Robins had been present, how some of them had fought against bringing Dick back to the Cave, convinced he was a spy or imposter.

Artemis perked up. "Hey, it's Lian's birthday next week. Why don't you come to Gotham with me? It's been a while since you've seen her, right?"

Without a hint of his former hesitation, Wally nodded. It would be the first time in years he'd gone to Gotham.

* * *

"Hey, B." A pause. "Yeah, it's me." Another pause. "No, we didn't get DiMaggio—wait, how'd you even know about him? Y'know what. Never mind."

He spared a glance at Grayson, who had returned to the observation table, nodding somberly as he listened to Tim.

"You need to get back to the cave _right now._ Like, _right_ now." A pause. "Yeah, yeah. We're all fine. I can't explain it on the phone. Trust me—you need to see this for yourself."

Satisfied Batman had gotten the message, Jason ended the call and turned towards the others. It gave him a strange sense of déjà vu, seeing the first Robin again. They had never met in person—after all, Jason had been an eleven-year-old street rat when Robin first appeared. Back then, he had tried to avoid anything that had to do with Batman.

(Jason's lips quirked into a dry smile. Maybe not much had changed after all.)

Still, seeing his old idol like this, alive and ageless—it felt weird. Disarming, even. He would have to figure out a way to tell the Robin's apart again: First Robin, Red Robin, and Pain-in-his-Ass Robin.

Jason just hoped this old Robin wouldn't end up being a pain in his ass too. He's already paid his birdwatching dues.

* * *

"Fascinating," Tim breathed, prodding at the tight bandage wrapped around Dick's exposed forearm. "Despite the recent cryogenic reawakening, there's no significant sign of damage to the tissues. How do you feel?"

"Like a pincushion." Dick chuckled nervously, pulling his arm back and rolling his sleeve down before Tim could suggest another round of blood tests. "Think you got enough?"

"Ah, sorry." Tim pushed away the tray of blood vials with a mash-lipped smile. He hadn't just been running tests to check for cryogenic clues: he wanted to make sure Dick was still Dick. "We're trained to be thorough."

"Believe me, I _know."_

"But really, how are you feeling? Not dizzy or anything?"

"Fine. A little sore. My chest hurts, but I guess that's what happens when you stop breathing for ten years."

"Uhm, yeah. Right…."

Tim glanced in Damian's direction. He hadn't relaxed his tense, arms-crossed pose since Dick had woken up. He couldn't blame him—Damian never grew up with stories about the first Robin like he had. Sure, Alfred had smuggled a few stories to all of them while they were training, but only he and Jason lived in Gotham when Dick was alive. As far as Damian was concerned, Dick was a ghost.

A _living_ ghost.

Right in front of them was the undeniable proof that the first Robin never actually died.

If Tim had to be honest, he too felt a little overwhelmed by the night's events. After all, the unsolved mystery of the first Robin had become such a deep part of all their identities. Dick Grayson had been a lingering shadow over all of them, the first Robin who died for Batman's cause. The stark reminder that this wasn't a game.

He looked over Dick's blanket-clad shoulder and caught Jason staring down at the tattered remnants of the first Robin uniform.

 _This must be hard for him._

Yes, he supposed they had both idolized Dick in their own unique ways. After all, Dick had been his hero, someone to look up to. For Jason, however, Tim knew Dick had always been an unattainable expectation, a competition. He could only imagine how conflicted Jason felt about it all.

Tim sighed and shook his head. It was going to take a while to get used to this.

* * *

The Batcave was colder than he remembered.

Dick shivered, tugging the blankets closer around his shoulders. Despite the multiple layers, he still couldn't get warm.

After their reunion, Alfred had disappeared and reappeared with a faded, dusty hoodie that Dick instantly recognized with a cry of delight. His slender build had atrophied from lack of use, causing the sleeves to balloon over his wrists and pool at his knees as he sat cross-legged on the table.

Tim—he was glad to finally know everyone's names; it made things a little less vague—had been the one to fill him in on most of the immediate changes.

 _Yes, there have been more Robins since your disappearance._

(An interjection from Damian here about there being only _one_ current Robin. And the rightful heir to the Bat mantle, at that.)

 _Yes, Gotham does seem to smell worse, now that you mention it._

 _Yes, Alfred's cookies are still just as warm and delicious as they've always been. Bet he's making a fresh batch right now._

However, whenever Dick tried to broach the subject of Bruce, Tim would get surprisingly tight-lipped. Alfred had stepped into the conversation then, offering an unhelpfully diplomatic response.

"It's been ten years, Master Richard. Like most people tend to do, Master Bruce has changed as well."

Dick pursed his lips, debating on how to press harder, when a panel of bulbs and buttons lit up with a high-pitched whirl. He straightened up reflexively.

The warning tones of the Batcave garage bay.

How many times had he glared at his calculus homework in the Cave, longing for that sound? It always meant Bruce was back.

Moments later, Dick heard tires squeal and the faint scent of exhaust made his head swim again. He blinked at the massive vehicle inhabiting the spot that his small Robin-cycle used to rest. The driver's side door swung up and an enormous shadow stepped free, turned its head, and froze.

"What is it?" The words were full of gravel and pain and Dick shivered at the voice Batman only ever used for the scum of Gotham. It didn't feel right, hearing it in the Cave. In his home.

There was another pause as Batman took a step forward. He glanced from Alfred and then back to Dick. It almost hurt to see him so unsure.

"It isn't a trick, Master Bruce. It's really him."

"Dick…?"

Dick nodded, not trusting his throat to let any words remain ungarbled. _What's with the emotions, Grayson? You saw him a day ago._ Dick mentally shook the thought away. _No, not a day ago. It just feels like it, right?_

"H-hey, Bruce. Long ti—" Dick began in a forced lighthearted tone, but his words were smothered when Batman strode towards them and embraced him. Dick felt the thick material of Batman's gauntlet press into the back of his hair, pulling Dick tighter into his hold. Dick mashed his lips together and squeezed his eyes shut, feeling all the tension and confusion leech from his bones.

No matter how much time had passed, no matter what he felt or how strange everything was, he was back to where he needed to be.

"West—you know, the first Kid Flash—found him in a cryochamber under Central City sometime yesterday evening." Jason was providing commentary in the background, trying to explain the impossible. However, when Batman's attention seemed fixed solely on Dick, he trailed off with a mumbled, "whatever, the kid can explain it later."

Batman broke the embrace first, holding Dick at an armlength away to better study him. He yanked off his cowl, revealing bright eyes and an openmouthed frown as he surveyed Dick.

"I don't… You haven't changed at all…"

Dick gave a hiccupy laugh and brushed at the corner of his eye with an oversized hoodie sleeve. He was grateful for such a private reunion. The other Robins were gawking, but he didn't know them yet, so they still felt like strangers or figments of a fever dream. Wally or Artemis, on the other hand, would have never let it go if they saw Dick sobbing in front of Batman.

"And you look ancient now! Almost would have mistaken you for the Commish with all those wrinkles."

Each onlooker reacted differently to the joke.

Jason looked away, busying himself with the gun strapped to his hip.

Tim blinked in horror, wishing he had warned Dick of Batman's low tolerance for humor.

Damian scowled, grateful that his father had never forced him into such sentimental embraces.

Alfred smiled as he resumed his dusting.

Bruce paused for a moment before a hesitant smile slowly stretched across his slackened lips. He chuckled, a rusty sound out of practice, and rested a gloved hand on Dick's shoulder.

Dick grinned back. He was home at last.

* * *

He tried to fight the muted burn along his eyelids, but eventually he could hold out no longer. The Batcave had grown quiet as each vigilante prepared for the looming midnight shift. Tim and Jason had left immediately after Bruce's arrival, tugging on their masks and Jason offering a muttered "DiMaggio" as the only explanation. Damian was…somewhere? Dick really didn't know, but he could feel a pointed glare skewering him from somewhere in the cave.

He leaned back against the padded gurney, keeping his gradually dimming vision on Bruce and the Batcave's computer. It was a peaceful kind of quiet: the soft hums of the machinery, the muted _clack clicks_ of Bruce's gloves rattling across the keys. There would be frequent pauses when Bruce would stop typing, his fingers hovering over the keys. His reflected gaze always landed on Dick before he would resume his work.

If Dick kept his stare focused on the back of the computer's chair, turning all the new gadgets and uniforms into a blurry peripheral smear, he could keep pretending that everything was the same. His eyes drifted closed again. He was too tired to keep fighting the drowsiness, even though it felt like he had been sleeping for almost half his life.

A muted beeping roused Dick from his slumber. He struggled into a seated position, rubbing the crust from the corner of his eyes. His gaze reflexively darted back towards the computer, but Tim had replaced Bruce, tapping at the computer with an even greater ferocity. Upon hearing Dick's sluggish shuffle coincide with the beeping, he winced.

"Oops, sorry about that. I thought I had disabled the alarms. Don't worry—it's just Batgirl and Black Bat."

Dick blinked. The second name sounded strange, but he recognized the first.

 _Batgirl?_ He tried not to smile. _So Barbara_ did _decide to give it a shot after all._ He thought back to their last conversation at the movie theater in Uptown just a few days before his disappearance. Hadn't he teased her about her prototype costume design?

He slipped off the gurney, letting the blanket fall around his ankles. It would be weird seeing Babs again; he blushed, wondering how she had aged after their ten years apart.

Seconds later, two motorcycles pulled into the Batcave. Dick moved towards them, a smile already growing on his face. Their uniforms were different, certainly. Neither of them looked like the crumpled loose-leaf design Barbara had showed him earlier.

"Babs? I can't belie—"

The words died on his tongue and his smile froze as the two masked vigilantes pulled off their motorcycle helmets.

"You…you aren't Barbara…"

"Huh?" The taller girl tilted her head, causing a blonde cascade of hair to fall over one shoulder. "Who are you?"

Dick opened his mouth, paused, then shut it.

"Robin."

The blonde girl grinned, leaning forward to get a better look. "Oh, you _definitely_ aren't him. Not enough scowling, not enough swords."

Dick didn't know what that was supposed to mean. _Just going to add that to the rest of the "weird stuff" pile._ He'd sort it out whenever his head stopped spinning.

The other girl maintained a cautious distance from them, her face and hair concealed under a tight black mask. She tilted her head towards Tim.

"It's alright, Cass. He's one of us."

She nodded and yanked off her cowl, revealing puckered lips and narrowed eyes as she studied Dick. He felt his skin crawl reflexively at the impassive expression. He turned his attention back to the blonde.

"Who are you?"

"I asked first. If you're actually Robin, then I must be one too." She gave him a cheery wink, which only worsened Dick's burgeoning headache.

Tim rolled his eyes and turned back towards the computer. "The one who _thinks_ she's funny is Stephanie Brown. She's the current Batgirl. Cassandra," here, the other girl tilted her head again, keeping her catlike gaze fixed on Dick, "is Black Bat. She doesn't talk much, but with Steph around, it all evens out in the end."

"Ha ha. Very _funny,_ Timmy." Stephanie crossed her arms, but she was smiling nonetheless. "Seriously—who's the new kid? Don't you think the Cave was crowded enough?"

Dick blinked, glancing from Stephanie to Cass. _You have no idea._ Including Alfred and himself, these new additions brought the number of Batcave inhibitors to eight. _Five_ more than he was used to. And as far as Dick knew, there might even be a few more bats lurking around the stalactites.

Tim spared a glance in Dick's direction before looking back at Stephanie and Cassandra. "This is Dick Grayson. The _first_ Robin."

Stephanie's eyes widened behind her cowl; Cassandra's lips tightened further as her gaze landed back on Dick.

"What? You _got_ to be joking! He should be the same age as Oracle."

 _Oracle?_ Was this another person Dick had yet to meet?

Tim shook his head and pulled up a file on the giant screen. Dick's file. Dick resolved himself to read over it the moment he was left alone. New changes aside, hacking the computer couldn't be that difficult.

"I'm not. He was placed in a cryochamber by Mr. Freeze for ten years. Members of the League found him a few days ago."

"No way… Babs is going to freak when she hears this. She spent years trying to track Freeze down."

Dick perked up at the mention of Barbara's name. "Barbara Gordon? You know her? We used to go to school together. She said that she was going to join us—Bruce and me—and become Batgirl."

Stephanie opened her mouth to respond, but Tim interrupted with a pointed look in her direction.

"Barbara operates under the name Oracle now."

 _There it is again. Oracle,_ Dick mused. _That's a strange title._ He wracked his fuzzy memories for a past conversation with Barbara that would explain the origin of her name, but nothing came up.

"Will she be coming by?"

"Uh, no, probably not. She has her own setup elsewhere." Dick's shoulders slumped. Maybe Babs hadn't been as into the idea of a collaboration as he had thought.

"I _do_ need to bring her a few files though," Stephanie started slowly, drawing each word out to give her time to think of the next. "I'm sure she wouldn't mind the company. It's always pretty spotless over there anyway."

Tim nodded before grabbing a stack of folders next to several stained coffee mugs. "Jason wanted me to run a few of these DiMaggio files by her too." He spared a glance in Dick's direction. "Besides, some fresh air might be nice."

"Well, that decides it. Road trip time." Stephanie fished a phone from her belt and dialed.

"Yo, Oracle. You're still awake, right? Thought so. Some of us will be swinging by in about twenty minutes." Stephanie grinned into the phone. "No, no. No special reason."

* * *

Alfred intercepted them on the way up the stairs. Stephanie and Tim attempted to come up with a believable explanation for smuggling Dick out of the manor, but Cassandra blew their cover with a curt "going to see Oracle" and a firm nod.

Alfred lifted a brow but let them pass if they promised to go in civilian clothes and if he would be the one to drive them. "The streets of Gotham aren't safe at this time of night," he added with a dry smile, which earned a groan from Stephanie.

Already dressed in his old hoodie, Dick waited patiently by their civilian car—or at least, the car Alfred pointed to before disappearing back into the main building— for the others to get dressed. He thought he sensed someone watching him, but when he turned his head, he only caught a flash of gold darting away.

 _Damian, I think._

It was tricky keeping all the names straight, especially when he knew so little about each of them, but he had been trained by the best. Since their first introduction in the Cave, he figured the current Robin would be the one who would be the most _dis_ turbed by his return.

 _What had Stephanie said—something about swords?_

He didn't have long with his thoughts before the others arrived. They looked almost like different people in their civilian clothes, though Tim had hidden his eyes behind a familiar pair of sunglasses. Dick considered a sarcastic compliment about sunglasses in the middle of the night, but decided against it, remembering that he didn't actually know these people as well as he wanted to.

While Tim took the front seat, Stephanie tugged Dick into the back seat and pulled his arm until he was perched on the middle divider. Silent as a shadow, Cassandra slipped in next to him. He hadn't expected her to come, especially since she had slunk off after the group had dispersed to change clothes, but now she was next to him, fixing Dick with the same unreadable stare from before.

While Tim and Alfred conversed quietly in the front, Stephanie drilled him with questions about his mysterious whereabouts. To his surprise, he didn't mind answering them as much as he thought he would. It allowed him to focus on something other than the darkness and shifting environment each time Alfred turned another corner.

Despite the startling introductions, Dick was starting to grow fond of Stephanie. Likewise, he still couldn't decipher Cassandra's thoughts, but she didn't seem to harbor any malice towards him—just a friendly, calm curiosity.

For some reason, they all wanted to hear stories about Bruce, how he was like ten years ago. When he told them about training through basketball or his most successful pranks, Dick couldn't quite read Tim's strange expression in the rearview mirror.

He answered a few more questions before Alfred pulled up beside a towering brick building. Alfred decided to stay in the car, leaving it idling on the side of the road, while the others piled out. Dick followed Tim as he moved towards the reinforced maintenance doors. Dick's lips fell open as he tilted his head back, barely able to see the glowing face of the clock high above him. It was well past three. He wondered what Barbara would still be doing up.

"She lives here…?"

"Mmmhmm."

First caves and now clock towers? It was a little on-the-nose, even for him.

Stephanie pressed an intercom button and waved up at a camera hidden behind a low-mounted gargoyle on an adjacent building.

"Purpose for visit?"

"Can't a girl miss her super brilliant friend-slash-goddess?"

"Hmmm?"

"Okay, you got me. Cass and I found a few tapes on some creeps that we need to descramble. Also, Tim—what did you need again?"

"Access to your intra-city files. B's are a bit lacking when it comes to other cities."

"You do know all calls are recorded for prime blackmail material, right?"

Dick's gut clenched reflexively at the voice. It was deeper, but he could imagine Barbara smiling behind the microphone. Tim shrugged off the threat and reached for the handle. The door bolt slid away with a _click_ as a green light pulsed.

"Oracle has enough dirt on all of us. She's just bragging now," Stephanie leaned over to whisper in Dick's ear. He didn't doubt it, thinking back to her puckered lips when Artemis came to Gotham Academy, how Barbara deduced her superhero identity a few weeks later with a triumphant grin.

He trailed after the others and stepped into a service elevator, the bottom of his shoes scraping against the grating. His stomach sloshed as the elevator moved upwards, reminding him that he hadn't eaten in…ten years. He had been too anxious and distracted to eat at the Cave, but he wished he did now.

Once out of the elevator, he could see the backlight of the clock face, illuminating the hall before him. He heard the keyboard keys clacking and machines beeping. He quickened his pace, drawn towards the light and sound.

 _There!_ Reddish orange hair was visible just over the low back of a desk chair.

Dick cleared his throat. "Don't tell me you saw the sequel without me."

The hair whipped around and Barbara searched for him, only the profile of her face and the edge of a shoulder visible. Her eyes were wide, darting wildly behind their glasses frames as she tried to place the familiar voice.

"Di-Dick?"

Dick stepped further into the room, moving along the curved silhouette of the clock's backlighting.

"Who else would it be, Babs? I'm the only one who'd ever see that corny movie with you."

A stunned silence.

"You're—you're the same?"

"I seem to be the only one who's—"

Part of him was waiting for her to jump out of her chair, but she remained still, mouth parted in shock as her arms dropped to the armrests. His words broke off as his eyes followed the motion. No, it wasn't a computer chair—

 _A wheelchair…?_

His gaze darted back up to her face. He tried to swallow and force out another light comment, but the words felt tense and blocky.

"I can't believe you're finally wearing your glasses now. I guess you didn't take my warning about computer screens seriously."

 _All these new vigilantes. Gotham feels so much darker. Barbara in a_ wheelchair _? What did I miss?_

"How? What happened to you, Dick?"

Dick wasn't sure how to respond, especially since he wanted to shout the same thing back to her.

 _What happened to everyone?_

Tim shouldered himself into the conversation, handing Barbara the stack of files. "I promise we'll get the chance to explain everything, but could you start on these? Jason keeps threatening to pluck my feathers and I don't want to find out what _that_ means."

Barbara nodded, tearing her gaze from Dick. "Uh, right. Of course. The DiMaggio case. I'll get on it." She flipped through the files, eyes roaming over the names and numbers.

Dick watched her work before quietly excusing himself from the room. He needed to get some fresh air to calm himself after this "fresh air excursion."

* * *

 **Gang's all here now! A bit of a long chapter - hope you don't mind ;) Let me know what you think!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note:** Hi all. It's been a little bit. I hope you all are staying safe and healthy during these strange times!

* * *

"She's grown so much since I saw her last."

"That's what children do, you know. _Grow._ Especially once they start walking." Jade quirked an eyebrow at her younger sister. "You'll learn soon enough."

Artemis rolled her eyes but kept her attention on the birthday girl. She was dressed in a mock costume of an old Speedy uniform, complete with a skirt over her red tights.

 _Three guesses on who her favorite hero is._

She filed away the mental image for the next time she wanted to irritate her pseudo-brother-in-law. Lian ran around the room, waving her plastic bow as she chased after Wally, never quite able to catch him. Artemis's smile grew wider as she watched them. Part of her was still surprised that Wally had agreed to visit Gotham after his firm stance against it for so many years. Then again, she supposed she shouldn't be that surprised, especially after what had transpired over the past week.

Jade followed her gaze and her train of thought.

"I'm surprised to see him here. It's been what, seven years?"

"At least." It was a bit bittersweet, a bit nostalgic, to only offer the bare minimum of knowledge. Even after their tenuous reconciliation, Artemis still couldn't trust her sister. Not fully, at least.

"Yes, something has certainly come over him. I wonder what prompted the change."

Artemis sent her sister a flat stare. She _knew_ Jade knew why, but she also knew that Jade would play coy until Artemis brought it up. That was the game they always played, twenty-five years and counting.

She decided to jump straight to the point.

"Roy said _you_ were the one who told him that Robin had been found."

"With a secret that juicy, it's only a matter of time before everyone hears about it. I'm sure half of Arkham knows by this point."

"He knew _hours_ after Wally found him. I had just gotten to the Tower a little bit before he did."

"What can I say? Word travels fast 'round here," Jade offered with a shrug and tight smile.

Once she heard about how Roy found out, Artemis had reached out to her remaining Gotham contacts to see if they had heard rumors about the first Robin. Only Jason had, and in a follow-up conversation, he swore that Dick hadn't even left Wayne Manor since arriving back in Gotham.

 _She's trying to lay another false trail to hide her source._

"How did you know, Jade?"

Artemis kept her voice low. Apart from herself, Wally, and Roy, they were the only "superheroes" she recognized at the party, but she didn't know who was on _Cheshire's_ guest list.

"A little birdie told me."

"Not funny."

Jade watched Lian dart around the coffee table and use her own grandmother as a human shield to escape Wally's outstretched fingers.

"Nice technique," Jade complimented, nodding with approval.

 _"Jade."_

"Alright, _fine."_ Jade leaned back with a sigh, trying to look annoyed, but Artemis knew her well enough to know she reveled in stirring the proverbial pot. "My _employer_ was concerned that your friend would be damaged in the revival process."

Artemis straightened up, nerves prickling along her spine. "Your employer? Wait, are you still working for the League of Shadows?"

Jade offered a catlike smile and a flick of the brow.

"And what do you mean they were concerned? Did they _know_ about him? That he was in that underground laboratory the whole time?"

Artemis had sworn off violence and heroism, but the implication that her own _sister_ knew about Dick's whereabouts for ten years made her fingers twitch.

" _Relax,_ sis. That's all I know. I was leaving the compound when I intercepted a messenger for," she paused again, "my employer. Your sidekick friend was already out of the chamber by the time I first heard about it. I have no idea if they knew about it beforehand or if they found out like everyone else."

She nodded, feeling her heartrate drop back down to a more manageable beat. She believed her sister. At least, about the part that she hadn't known about Dick until he had been woken up. Something as big as the frozen protégé of Batman? Even Jade couldn't keep a secret _that_ long.

Still, if the League of Shadows members were involved somehow, then there could be more to this than Mr. Freeze using Robin as a test case for his wife. Whoever Jade was working for—even if the League of Shadows was just catching up, they still knew something Artemis and her former teammates didn't.

"I hope my baby sis isn't planning on breaking out the green spandex again."

Artemis smiled thinly. "They wouldn't fit anyway."

* * *

Unable to wait any longer, Dick asked Alfred to take him to the diner twenty minutes early. He fidgeted in the back seat of the car, staring out the window as the city passed him by. It was his first time out of Wayne Manor during the day. He wrinkled his nose at the boarded windows and the glistening graffiti. Daylight certainly didn't improve the city's looks.

"Are you sure you want to be dropped off here, Master Richard? I'm sure Mister Wally wouldn't mind coming to the manor to eat."

Dick shook his head and then verbalized his dissent when he realized Alfred wasn't watching him in the rearview mirror. "This used to be our favorite place, Alfred. I want _one_ thing to remain the same."

"Very well, Master Richard." Alfred fell silent again, but Dick knew he was itching to turn the car around. He reminded Dick that he would be waiting a few blocks away and that he only had to call when they were done. Dick thanked him before sliding out the backseat.

The diner looked as if a thin layer of dust had settled over it, but the flashing neon signs and crooked lettering were the same as they had been in Dick's memory. He pushed through the glass doors and made a beeline for his regular seat, grateful that no one had claimed it yet. He offhandedly glanced around, just in case Wally was seated elsewhere, but then remembered that he had arrived twenty minutes early.

He settled for alternating between staring at the menu and at the various waitstaff as they milled about the diner. He didn't recognize any of them. No Jeanne, who always remembered Dick and Wally's order (three large cheeseburgers, two large milkshakes, two large fries, and then a burger for Dick). No Betty, who always hummed under her breath while she counted out the change.

He flipped the menu, nearly tearing a corner where the lamination had run thin. They probably hadn't been changed since he was last here. The only constant thing in Gotham City.

"Can I get you something, dear?"

He glanced up sharply, startled out of his thoughts. A waitress tilted her head down at him, colorful lips puckered. His gaze remained locked on them.

 _Jeanne?_

She was older and much thinner, her skin paper as it stretched over her bones, but she wore the same obnoxiously purple lipstick that she had when they first met.

Maybe some things didn't have to change.

"Oh, uh. I'm waiting for a friend. He shouldn't be much longer."

She nodded and started to turn away before fixing him with a narrow-eyed stare. "You seem familiar, sweetie. Where have I seen you before?"

Dick blinked, mulling over the different responses. Because his role as Robin had taken his life from him, stolen so much of his time, he had completely forgotten about his civilian life as Dick Grayson. Not for the first time, he wondered how people reacted to his disappearance, but he refused to pry, since each new piece of information only made everything seem more _real._

"I…uh…"

"Oh, I know! Weren't you here with your cousin a week or two ago?"

Dick felt his shoulders sag with bittersweet relief. No, she didn't recognize him; his cover wasn't blown. "No, I'm new to town. This is my first day in Gotham."

"And you came here?" She shrugged and moved on.

Twenty more minutes passed, and Wally burst through the front doors, grinning when he saw Dick in their regular spot. Dick's gut clenched guiltily. If Wally hadn't accidentally smacked into a leaving customer in his rush to get inside, Dick might not have recognized him in the commotion. It was their first encounter since Dick had fled from wherever his friends had brought him, the strange T-shaped tower.

"Aw, crap. Sorry I'm late." Wally dropped into the booth across from Dick, his smile a little too bright to be natural.

Dick scanned over Wally's face and torso, picking out details that seemed so different, yet so familiar. It almost felt as if he were in his bedroom, but all the furniture had been shifted two inches to the right and he kept stubbing his toes with each jarring realization that things weren't the same anymore.

(He didn't even want to think about his own bedroom. It had been creepy that first night, when he felt like he was literally sleeping in his own mausoleum, everything preserved and lightly dusted.)

"Let me guess—you were held ransom at a kid's birthday party?"

"What? Seriously? How'd you know?"

"I was trained by the best." He paused and shifted in his seat with a pleased smile. "You have glitter and a plastic ring in your hair—the kind that usually comes with cupcakes. Oh, and there's red icing on the corner of your mouth."

Wally's grin shifted to a more natural luminosity as he wiped away the incriminating stain with a right thumb and knocked the ring from his hair.

"Sharp as ever, I see. I was at Lian's birthday party. She's Artemis's niece."

"Wait, someone had a kid with _Cheshire?"_

Wally mashed his lips and bobbed his head. "Uh, yeah. Roy did."

 _"Roy_ had a kid with _Cheshire?"_

Wally laughed as Dick's stunned expression. "Aha, yeah. That's it, by the way. The most shocking thing you'll hear since you've been gone. Someone _willingly_ had a kid with Roy."

Dick's smile slipped. He knew Wally was trying to keep the mood light, but his words struck a chord within him. Everyone was treating him as if _he_ had been the one who left and miraculously came back, but from his perspective, everyone else had left him ten years in the future. He was the only one who had stayed the same.

"I never figured they would get together."

"Together is a bit of a strong word." Wally rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "A better term would be occasional roommates."

"Speaking of together, are you and Artemis still—you _know_ —"

Wally smiled sheepishly before nodding. He moved his left hand to the table and Dick's eyes were caught by a flash of light. A gold band stretched around Wally's finger.

 _Oh._

 _OH._

"How long?" he whispered, eyes trained on the ring.

"Three years officially. But I guess we've been together since the Team." Wally's lips pursed as a thought occurred to him. "Our anniversary was actually on the day I found you. Made for one hell of an excuse to miss dinner."

"Congratulations!" The word sounded hollow to him. He was thrilled, certainly. A bit surprised as well. But this was just another reminder about how life had gone on without him. He hated the selfish knots tangling tighter in his chest, but he couldn't banish the thoughts completely.

"I can't believe I missed the wedding. _And_ the bachelor party!"

Wally laughed again, eyes drifting to the side as he reminisced. "You didn't really miss much. Kaldur and Conner aren't the liveliest when it comes to parties, believe it or not."

"Maybe once this all blows over, we can go out and celebrate again?" Dick offered.

"Hold up, dude. _You_ aren't twenty-one yet." Wally prodded at Dick's chest.

He knocked his hand away with the back of his wrist. "I am too. My driver's license would say that I'm twenty-four."

"Yeah, and they'd card you in a second. You aren't even old enough to _drive_ yet—Robin-bikes excluded." He reconsidered his words. "Y'know, _physically._ " Dick made a face, but he enjoyed the banter. It felt so natural, so familiar.

"Besides, it's really not that big of a deal for a speedster anyway. I metabolize the alcohol before it can even do anything. And there's no point for Artemis to go out either anymore, since—."

Dick's brow furrowed at the wording and at Wally's abrupt stop. He blinked, considering it.

 _Artemis shouldn't drink anymo—_

 _OH._

Dick got the feeling that Wally's offhanded remark about _Roy_ having the most shocking change was about to get blown out of the water.

"Wait a second. You mean Artemis is, _you know?"_

"We don't know for sure. It's only been a few weeks since we started getting suspicious."

He tried to picture them as a family with an older Wally and Artemis, but he kept drifting back to Artemis in her green costume, midriff bare, and Wally in his bright yellow spandex.

Wally groaned and leaned back in his chair. "Damn. Artemis is going to _kill_ me for letting it slip."

Dick shrugged. "I would have figured it out eventually. Trained by the World's Greatest Detective, remember?"

(At least, he liked to believe he would have connected the dots.)

"Uh, right…"

Their conversation shifted when Jeanne came back to their table. She didn't even bat an eye at the ridiculous amount of food Wally requested, nor did she comment on the familiarity of the order. Even after she left, Dick decided to keep their conversation light. He had so many questions to ask about the Team and he had so many things to vent about— _"can you believe I have 'brothers' now? And one of them just growls at me"—_ but he kept them locked in the back of his mind.

Instead, they talked about the video games Dick missed out on and the new heroes, far removed from the ones that Wally and Dick knew. It was a refreshing change of pace. Whenever Wally told such horrendous jokes that Dick had to squeeze his eyes shut in embarrassment, he could even imagine that they were both teenagers again and Wally's deeper voice was from a cold.

After an hour-and-a-half, their conversation fell into a comfortable lull and Dick realized with a start that he hadn't contacted Alfred about when they would be done.

"What's wrong, man?"

"I just realized that Alfred is waiting for me somewhere in some parking lot." He winced, hoping Alfred wouldn't be too worried. Alfred still seemed to be on edge whenever he was out of their sight, like Dick would disappear again. "I probably should get going before he starts to worry."

"I understand." He reached for his wallet, but Dick had already dropped the bills on the table, just as he always had before.

"What's the point of being friends with the ward of a billionaire if you don't get free lunch?" Dick offered, repeating the same phrase Wally used to say each time Dick paid.

Wally grinned, reaching across the table to playfully smack Dick's shoulder. "Alright, since you insist. But next time, I'll pay so I can prove that I'm a successful grownup with an actual salary."

Dick hoisted an eyebrow as high as he could, the effort making his expression seem more ridiculous than mocking. "Now _that_ I have to see."

"How about same time and place next week then?"

"Deal."

* * *

 _"Recognized authorized guest: A 26. Red Robin."_

A pause, conversations ceased. Bart choked on a grape in his scrambled efforts to sit back up. Even superspeed couldn't make his embarrassing attempts at readiness seem believable. Sitting a few feet away, Cassie and Cissie had stopped their giggling and stared at the zeta tube. Cissie reached behind her reflexively for an arrow.

Someone new was coming.

The light from the zeta tube faded, leaving the profile of an elongated triangle against the glare.

Bart blinked rapidly and the shadow transformed into a slender young man with a dark cape.

 _Oh, right. Not a triangle shaped person. Just a cape._ The mistake was justifiable. Capes weren't common around the Watchtower, especially among the younger heroes. Most capes could only be found in Gotham.

Bart was automatically on his feet, chest puffed out as he studied their newest visitor. Judging by the coloration and the utility belt fitted with the trademark crest, he was a Robin. Bart's gaze jumped from crest to mask. It had been a long time since there had been a Robin in the Watchtower. According to Kaldur, nearly ten years. Back when Batman still was a part of the Justice League. Things like this weren't to be treated lightly.

Which meant he decided to remain _absolutely_ silent and let someone with more tact handle it.

"So, which one are you?"

 _Or not._

Bart supposed he never really did well under pressure.

The Robin tilted his head. "Red Robin." Bart nodded once and then frowned. The name didn't mean much, but he remembered seeing photos of various black-haired boys running around on the Gotham news. They all looked the same – little carbon-copy crime fighters.

Cassie puckered her lips, moving a step towards their guest.

"Uhm, so which _Robin_ are you?" They had all heard the stories about the fabled Batclan from the older heroes. The dark avengers of Gotham who kept to themselves.

( _Bats that multiply like bunnies,_ Bart had once quipped, though he sure as hell wasn't going to mention that now. He did have _some_ restraint.)

Red Robin blinked, perhaps startled by the question. "Oh, well, I guess I was the third Robin."

Again, the chronology didn't mean much to Bart. It was nice to know in case he had to do research later. Also, judging from the guy's tone of voice, it meant there were more than a handful of Robins.

( _Is that what they would be called? Or is it a flock of Robins? Murder?)_

 _(Wait, no. That's crows. Eeeesh. Creepy.)_

Red Robin continued talking, nodding to each of them as he made one-sided introductions. "I assume you are the second Kid Flash, formerly known as Impulse." Bart nodded mutely. Their visitor knew more about them then they did about him. "Arrowette—the second one." He nodded towards Cissie, who still hadn't dropped her arrow, even though her bow was halfway across the room. "And Wondergirl—again, the second one." This time, a nod towards Cassie.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flutter of movement by the main door. Conner, arms crossed and expression impassive, studied their guest.

"How did you get access to the Watchtower?"

Red Robin's smile grew a little, but it was reflexive rather than genuinely warm. Like he was trying to keep everyone at ease. Even he must have realized how strange this visit was. He kept his arms slightly outstretched in front of him, palms exposed to Bart and the others as he spoke. Bart's seen the gesture before – in those negotiation training videos.

 _I guess I shouldn't be surprised. He was trained by the Batman._

"Batman helped designed the tubes over a decade ago. Things haven't changed much." A pause. "Err, at least regarding your tech. Anyway, I've been sent on a mission to find out more about Di—er, the first Robin's disappearance."

He paused again, considering his next words. "Also, some of us in Gotham are eager to resume partnerships with other superheroes."

"Some of you?" Cissie frowned, getting up to stand next to Cassie.

Red Robin nodded, though something about his side-eyed expression made Bart think they had yet to come up with a "family" consensus.

"I know it's been a while since there's been a Robin on this team, but I'd appreciate some help. _We'd_ appreciate the help" he amended with a weak smile. "Even if some others won't admit it."

* * *

 **Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think 3**


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